


Washed Up

by LinksLipsSinkShips



Series: Washed Up [1]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Amnesia, Beach House, Beaches, M/M, Slow Burn, You'll know it when you see it, but a weird kind of amnesia so suspend your disbelief a little, but also kind of a fast burn, crabber!rhett, he's a little bit snippy sometimes, missing!link, or maybe crabby!rhett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 110,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinksLipsSinkShips/pseuds/LinksLipsSinkShips
Summary: A man washes up on a beach with zero memory of who he is or how he got there. When he meets a crabber who might be able to help, he finds himself wondering: can you ever really go back?





	1. Washed Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay, you might have to suspend your disbelief a little bit on this one since it isn't exactly textbook amnesia. Just bear with me. I think you'll like the story if you can overlook the obvious medical fallacies.

_ Good Lord, it’s hot. Why is it so freakin’ hot?  _ It wasn’t just the sun, but the reflection of it on his surroundings, that made it hot, but also intensely bright. He could feel the sun on his face, the heat stinging at the slivers where his eyes were barely open. For a moment, he wondered why he’d left the curtains open, allowed the sun to peek through and interrupt his sleep. It wasn’t until he shifted slightly and felt the rough sand on his cheek that he realized he wasn’t in bed after all.

Had he fallen asleep on the beach? Perhaps sunbathing? The thought of  _ where am I?  _ lingered at the edges of his mind. He peeked an eye open, then closed it immediately, unprepared for how bright the sun would be. He wondered why he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, something, anything to keep it from being so painfully bright against his vision. It seemed like a ridiculous thing to forget, the silliest thing to overlook. He rolled to one side, then the other, shifting and tugging, feeling his leg catch on something. Was it seaweed? A towel? He wasn’t quite sure, and without opening his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to find out. He braced himself for the sunlight, shielding his eyes with sandy hands to get a small peek, squinting and blinking just enough to focus on his ankle, to figure out what he was caught on.

A black strap came into focus, and as he lifted his leg, turning it side-to-side to examine it, he felt something else move every time he did. He tugged hard, nearly slamming his knee into his chin in his haste. A surfboard jerked toward him across the sand, and he wondered how he’d failed to notice it at first. He carefully unstrapped it from his ankle, then looked at the ocean. Nothing about it looked familiar, and he wondered if he’d somehow drifted away from his starting point. Something in the horizon puzzled him, a soft glow coming from dark structures in the water. He could barely make out the shape, considered perhaps they were some sort of oil rig. He wondered why this beach felt so foreign, so unfamiliar to him. After all, if he was here on the beach, he must have come from somewhere nearby. And surfing, whatever he was doing must have had something to do with surfing instead of sunbathing, but his mind was hazy.  _ I’m probably just tired. _

He tried to remember, to figure out the last thing he’d thought of before waking up on the beach. He must have gone surfing, that much was obvious-- people don’t wake up with surfboards on their ankles if they haven’t been surfing,  _ right?  _ He scanned his brain for a memory, anything, an idea of how he’d gotten there, but he was coming up blank. He stood and picked up his board, walking along the beach and looking for something that seemed familiar.

He wondered how he’d gotten so far from where he’d started, far enough away to not recognize where he was at all. When nothing seemed familiar in one direction, he began to walk in the opposite one. Still nothing seemed clear-- he didn’t feel like he’d ever seen this beach before.

The condos didn’t seem like anything he’d seen, and as he walked, parking lots and smaller buildings near the beach seemed unfamiliar, too. He could see the beach stretching on for awhile, turning into rocks ahead, but decided to turn toward a parking lot instead of toward the rocks. Perhaps he’d driven to the beach. He tried to focus, but couldn’t remember specifically if he’d driven or walked. The parking lot was packed with cars, but none looked like his. Then again, if he were asked to describe his car right then, he’d have no clue what it looked like, what kind or color it was. He patted at every pocket or nook of his wetsuit and none held a key or cash or identification of any kind. Walking through the parking lot just made him second-guess himself, and he spun around trying to find anything that seemed  _ right _ . A red building caught his eye, and as he started toward it, he thought perhaps he could use the phone. The sign came into view, reading “Island Elementary School,” and he felt a sense of panic. That  _ definitely  _ wasn’t familiar. He wandered to the sidewalk, hoping a walk along the road would make something, anything feel right when everything felt wrong, but he had no idea which direction to go.

“Hey! Look out!” He turned to one side and saw nothing, but before he could turn the other way, sharp pain seared through his side. He saw a flash of light and found himself, his surfboard, and a bike tangled up in each other on the ground. “What the hell, man? I said ‘look out!’” A man towered over him, and from the angle, he looked positively gigantic.

“Sorry,” he muttered at the giant of a man before him, who seemed to be attempting to free his bike from the surfboard it was twisted under.

“Are you, uh… you okay?” The man reached a hand down toward him, and he accepted it, righting himself. Even when he stood, the man still seemed unreasonably tall. He didn’t answer, just blinking in response to the man’s question, trying to make sense of something, anything. “Okay, then. I’m, uh… I’m Rhett, by the way.”

Again, he blinked in response to the man’s words. “I’m, uh. I’m fine.” It was like his brain was on some sort of delay, slow to send signals to his mouth, like a lag had formed between his ears, his brain, his lips.

“Fine’s a strange name. No offense, but you kind of look like hell. Are you sure you’re alright?”  _ Name? _ He was trying to figure out what the man-- Rhett, he’d said-- was talking about, trying to figure out how to correct him, give him his actual name, but nothing came to mind.  _ Seriously? I don’t even know my name? What the hell is wrong with me? _

He noticed Rhett’s shirt and shorts, then looked down at himself to see the wetsuit and surfboard. He wondered if he seemed out of place, like he should have stuck to the beach instead of wandering the sidewalk. Rhett reached a hand toward him and he flinched back, pulling away as Rhett attempted, then successfully retrieved, a glob of seaweed from his hair.

“God, jumpy much? I was just… see?” Rhett held the green clump up for him to see, then flicked it to the ground with a wet slop. “It’s just seaweed. Good lord, you look like the missing link or something, all covered in gunk and sand.”

“This missing link?”

“You know, like… the thing between pre-humans and humans? The missing link? Our ancestry and all that?” Rhett was insistent, but he just furrowed his brow in response.  _ Missing link?  _ He didn’t respond, so Rhett continued. “So, since I almost killed you with my bike, I mean, even though it was your fault, do you need to use a phone or something? Get washed up? Do you live near here?”

It was too many questions at once, and he just stood there, staring as though Rhett was speaking another language entirely. He may as well have been. Did he need to use a phone? Would he know the number? Washing up sounded good, though, cleaning up the sand and seaweed. Whether or not he lived near there, he wasn’t sure. His brain struggled to search through information, to try to form a coherent answer.

“Jeez, do y’have some sort of massive head injury or something?”

“I, uh… I don’t think so? Maybe? I’m, uh… I don’t know,” he managed to stammer out.  _ Do I? _

“Okay, well, if you want to shower or call someone or whatever, follow me. If not, then, uh… good luck. Sorry I hit you with my bike.” Rhett grabbed his bike from the ground and pushed it up the sidewalk, the front wheel bent to the point of being unusable. Rhett had to struggle to keep it going straight, and when it was too hard, he picked it up and carried it under his arm, his hand holding the lower bar.

He picked up his surfboard and followed after Rhett, hoping the shower that he’d been offered would help him clear his thoughts and figure out who he was, what he was doing. Besides, he needed one if there was seaweed in his hair.

He would have offered to help Rhett carry the bike, seeing how he was trying to hold it and walk without dropping it, but carrying his surfboard was enough in the hot weather, his wetsuit clinging to him, hot and rough with sand in every crevice. Rhett didn’t say much, didn’t say anything at all, walking a few paces in front of him like he was on a mission to get home, stalking with heavy, fast steps.

A blue house came into view and Rhett turned toward it. The paint was chipped and worn, but it still was beautiful against the white clouds behind it. The shape was interesting, angular, with a wrap-around porch. The house was far more triangular than the other, boxier houses nearby, and he loved the look of it, the way it stood out. It was elevated off of the ground, allowing for water to come up underneath it without damaging or flooding the interior. At one time or another, this had probably been an eye-catching, remarkable house that stunned anyone who approached. Now, it looked more worn and tired, a bit imposing despite the smaller frame. He likened it to Rhett, somehow imposing despite being so thin, a good structure, but worn and tired above all.

“Shower’s there,” Rhett pointed to an alcove beneath the house, a small room with wooden sides. “You… you do know how to work a shower, right?” Rhett cocked his head, looking at him with concern. He knew it was his quiet demeanor, his lack of ability to recall something as simple as his own name, that gave Rhett every right to look at him as strangely as he did. He nodded at Rhett, assuming that if he didn’t know how, he’d figure it out quickly enough.

“How about a change of clothes? You got some hidden in that wetsuit that I don’t see?” Rhett looked him up and down, making it clear now that the wetsuit probably wasn’t the best choice to wear until he found something he  _ should  _ be wearing. Where had he left his clothing? Was it on the beach? In his car? He couldn’t recall.

“I… uh… no, I guess not.”

“Wow, okay. I guess you should take a shower, and I’ll try to dig out some clothes that fit you, or, uh… close enough anyway.” Rhett started up the stairs to the house.

“Thanks,” he called after Rhett. He stepped in the shower, fiddling with the knobs and allowing cool water to wash over him. He still had his wetsuit on, washing the sand off of it first, then peeling it off. He rinsed the salt and sand, seaweed and remnants of the ocean from his skin and hair. Closing his eyes, he pressed a hand to the wooden wall of the shower, trying desperately to remember anything he could. A place, a name, a phone number, anything that made sense.  _ Well, I must like to surf,  _ he thought, considering he was in a wetsuit and had a surfboard. Anything beyond that, though, was a mystery, and he felt terrified.

He knew so little, and the shower did nothing to clear his head. He wondered how long he’d been lying on the beach, and he figured if he’d been there for very long, surely someone would have come and shaken him. No one seemed to have even noticed him there, like they’d only assumed he was a surfer who decided to take a power nap. He wondered where he’d come from, because the beach he’d woken up on seemed so foreign.  _ Everything  _ seemed foreign. Then again, if he couldn’t even recall his name, perhaps he’d simply forgotten what the beach looked like. Maybe he was right where he’d come from after all, and it would take him a little bit to remember it. He wondered if Rhett was right, if he had a head injury, maybe got hurt while surfing.

A towel appeared over the side of the shower making a soft slap as it hit the wood, and he knew Rhett must have been back with the clothing he’d promised. He turned off the shower, toweling off and taking his time getting dressed in the clothes that were right outside of it. The shirt was too long for him by several inches, hanging past his hips, but it worked just fine. He cuffed the long jeans at the bottom to avoid tripping over them, then stepped out of the outdoor bathroom barefoot. There was no sign of Rhett at first, but soon he heard a soft humming turning into a whistled tune coming from the other side of the space under the house. He followed the sound to find Rhett removing the wheel from his bike.

“Heya, missing link. Feeling any better after the shower?” Rhett didn’t look up or turn toward him at all, instead staying focused on the bike he was hunched over. From this angle, he seemed like a gentle giant, softer than he’d looked when they’d been approaching the house.

“Yeah, uh… I… Thanks. I feel a lot better. I’m sorry about your bike.”

“It’s in better shape than you seemed to be,” Rhett said flatly, then turned toward him. “What’s your name, anyway?” He’d avoided answering the question, but now he realized he wasn’t quite sure how to tell a total stranger “hey, I have no clue who I am, so, uh, help me out here?”

“Link works fine,” he said, figuring it was as good a name as any, as good of an answer as he had at this point.

“Too shy to tell me your real name? Okay, then, Link. Need me to call someone for you or have you sorted out where to go yet?” Link didn’t have anywhere to go, but he also didn’t have anyone to call. He wondered for a moment if he took the phone and picked it up, if muscle memory would kick in and let him dial the number on his own. But if his name hadn’t become clear to him, been obvious, then he figured trying to dial a number seemed useless, too. He thanked Rhett and refused the offer, then started walking down the road. He was still barefoot, but he hoped no one would notice, or that on the island, it would be typical. The sun began to set behind him, and he wondered exactly what his plan was, what he might do that night.

Link started east, the direction of the beach he’d followed Rhett from. He watched the island slowly transform from beaches and sand, condos and restaurants, to woods and grass after he passed a park. The sidewalk ended, and he wandered along the side of the road in the dark, past RVs and an old military fort. As he reached the end of the road, he reached the end of the island itself.

He neared the ocean and looked off toward the horizon. The sky was completely dark now, stars twinkling above in the darkness. In the distance, he could make out more oil rigs dotting the horizon, standing tall in the water stretched out before him. He didn’t see anything that felt right, familiar, comfortable. He had a sense of loss, but loss of what? When you lose everything,  _ truly  _ everything, down to your own name and place in the universe, what should take priority. He felt like he’d lost himself, but he wondered what that truly entailed. Was there a family he wasn’t remembering? A home? He didn’t know what direction to head in, what path to take, so he turned around, thinking he’d walk back along the other side of the road. The island didn’t seem very big, small enough to walk the entire length of.

As Link walked, he pondered that maybe there was a reason he couldn’t remember things. Was there something wrong with him that was worth forgetting, a reason his brain seemingly deleted itself? He hope that, with some rest, some solid sleep, he’d manage to remember the things he was forgetting. Maybe he’d wake up like this was all a dream, a weird flash in a lifetime of memories.

The later it got, the more existential his thoughts became, and the more panicked Link felt in his own head. As he walked, he approached a gazebo. He was nowhere near the center of the island, nowhere close to the beach he’d come from, which was still a solid two or three miles away, but the picnic tables looked inviting. They would be a good place to sit, stop for the evening and figure out his plan.

Link had no money, no place to stay. The only clothes he had were Rhett’s, and the rinsed-off wetsuit he’d been wearing. He had no ID, no… anything. Renting a hotel room wasn’t an option. He wondered what month it was, and assumed, given the heat, that it had to be summer. If it  _ was  _ summer, finding a place to stay might be hard anyway.  _ Don’t people go to beaches in the summer?  _

It took Link very little time to go from sitting on the bench to stretching out along the length of it. Once he did, he dozed off quickly. If he dreamed, he didn’t remember it, didn’t know what he’d dreamed about. His hope had been that if he slept, he’d get some sort of clue about his life or wake up with his memory returned, but neither of those things happened. The cool gulf air whipped around him. Even in the middle of summer, it could get chilly, at least too chilly to be outside in a tee shirt before sunrise. Ocean mist lingered on the air, and he realized just how close to the ocean he’d decided to sleep for the night. It wasn’t wet necessarily, just cool on his skin, enough to wake him and keep him from falling back to sleep. And as he thought through what he could remember, or at least his lack of what he could remember, he was just as adrift as he’d been before. For now, though, he was mostly cold.

Link ducked underneath the table, leaning his back against the edge of the bench. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but it made a decent windbreak. He still felt exhausted as the sun rose. Whatever sleep he got was minimal at best. His body was sore, and he wasn’t sure if it was sleeping on the uncomfortable bench, or because of the long walk he’d taken the night before. He considered that he could be sore from surfing, that maybe he was a new or inexperienced surfer and had overdone it. And beyond all of that, he had a horrible headache.

As the sun rose, he heard the sounds of people talking nearby, the mutterings of the island coming to life as the sky transitioned from black to orange and yellow before fading into streaks of blue. He crawled out from under the table and realized he had no plan for what he’d do next. Should he keep walking? If he did, where would he go? He looked west, hoping that in the daylight, he might find something that seemed familiar after all.


	2. Crabby

Rhett stared at his bedroom ceiling. Naturally an early riser, up long before the sun to check his crab traps, he wasn’t used to being up  _ this  _ early. It was practically the middle of the night still. The cool breeze of the bay came through the door, bringing the smell of the ocean along with it. He’d left the door open at an attempt to avoid the air conditioner for yet another night, but it had gotten cooler than he’d anticipated.

He knew that getting out of bed at three in the morning instead of four shouldn’t make a massive difference, but it would definitely take a toll. He mentally readied himself for an afternoon nap to make up for it, promising himself he’d take one, and pushed himself out of bed toward the balcony. Sleep was elusive at best lately, impossible at worst, and he’d decided that giving up on trying to get it seemed like the best option. The night was beautiful, a bit chilly, and he was glad he’d grabbed a thin button down from the chair near the door. He carefully buttoned the bottom few buttons in the dark as he stood looking over the bay. A few houses down, he heard chatter, more than likely from vacationers who hadn’t yet gone to bed rather than people rising as early as he did. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly into the night air, then walked inside and closed the door behind him, wandering downstairs.

Rhett took his coffee strong and black, too strong, more like jet fuel than actual coffee. As he started the coffee maker, he heaped the grounds into the filter. He preferred staying awake to caring about the actual flavor, and this was effective for that. He waited just long enough for the coffee maker to produce a cup worth, pouring it before putting the carafe back to finish filling. He needed the caffeine  _ now _ , not after it finished brewing the entire pot. It didn’t take him long to settle into his chair and pick up the book he’d been reading. His chair was comfortable, even if it was a bit ugly and rough around the edges. He hadn’t exactly picked it for the aesthetic, that was sure. It was a roadside find, one he’d picked up on the way to get groceries in Tillman’s Corner. It didn’t matter that it failed to match anything else in the room-- it was comfortable, and it had a high back that perfectly supported his tall frame. Plus, the sign on it saying “free” landed it squarely in his price range.

Rhett allowed himself to get lost in the words of his book for a long while, in the perspectives that it offered up. In his mind, each book felt like a new universe, a new opportunity, a new set of characters living their lives and reaching for their goals in ways he could only imagine. He liked the comfort the books provided, the knowledge that there were other universes there that authors had created for people like him to enjoy. If only for an hour, it gave him an escape from the realities of the empty home surrounding him. It had mostly been his choice to come here, to leave everything behind and let himself just  _ be _ , or at least he spent most of his time convincing himself that it was. But the books around him reassured him, made him feel like he had some way to escape the loneliness that threatened to pull him in from time to time.

Several chapters and two cups of coffee later, he knew it was time. He lifted himself out of the chair, leaning side to side to pop his back before heading out to the dock. He was thankful that he could hang the traps from his own dock, knowing no one would mess with them there. For awhile, long before he’d mastered the art of crab trapping, he’d been setting them along the north side of the island, off of rocks near the bridge. It was effective at bringing in plenty of crabs, but it meant leaving his house to check the traps before dawn. Sometimes, it even meant finding the traps damaged, empty, or gone because others had found them and broken, open, or stolen them. Occasionally they broke by accident, but often tourists saw the traps and had a flash of “look, free crabs.” It was infuriating, and hanging the traps from his own house meant more control and fewer mishaps.

His dock was right there, just off of the back of his house, only a few steps from his back deck to the wood expanse that stretched over the water. He had plenty of space to tie the traps, and it was easy enough work for him. He clicked on the light hanging over the dock and set to work in the darkness, well before the sun decided to rise. Rhett’s fingers grazed the top of the water before he dipped his hands in to reach for the thick ropes that tied the traps to the dock itself. The water was cool, but not unbearably cold. He heaved the traps up one at a time, bringing crabs along with it, nearly completely full.

It didn’t take him long to empty the traps, his muscles used to the work as he placed the crabs in a bushel basket. The basket was lined with wet burlap, keeping the crabs moist, and the sides were lined with ice packs to keep them still but alive. He had other baskets ready, too, and his hope was to fill a few as he carefully placed ice packs on the crabs in his first basket. The air was quiet, no one was around, the vacationers having long gone to bed and no one else having woken up. The world was still, save for the waves lapping at the dock, the rhythm that Rhett lived his life by. It was this sound, this feeling, that led Rhett to come here, to buy a house right by the bay. After moving from crisis to crisis, he’d longed for the constant tranquility living on the island offered.

When the traps were empty, Rhett worked to bait them again, dropping them back into the water so he could repeat the process in the morning. Baiting them consisted of rubbing oily fish onto the trap wires, then tying half of the fish to the wires inside, allowing the crabs to come hoping for the fish, then finding themselves unable to leave. He wondered sometimes if life on the island was like that. He’d found himself drawn to it, compelled to come, and once he arrived, he didn’t feel like he could leave. It wasn’t like he wanted to, but still, he wondered what it was about places that sometimes pulled people in and then refused to let them go.

When the crab traps were empty and his bushel baskets were full, Rhett hauled them inside and poured himself another cup of coffee. The sun would be up soon, and in a few hours he’d drive the crabs to Skinner’s, sell them for the crew to steam for locals who wanted steamed crab but didn’t have the ability or desire to catch or bring their own in. If he wasn’t beaten out by the supplier the local restaurants used, then he’d take some to JT’s, a grill that overlooked the bay, and Miguel’s, the local taco place. Once in awhile, they’d take him up on the crab he was selling, and they paid more than Skinner’s, the fish market that steamed up fresh seafood, but if their supplier had plenty, they’d overlook him completely.

Rhett’s third cup of coffee gave him the energy, the desire to grab his fishing pole. He had the intention to catch some fish before selling his crabs, and considered trying to work out a deal with the restaurants in hopes they’d buy both. His hope, as always, was to sell as much of his goods on the island as he could so he could avoid the drive across the bridge. Other places may be willing to purchase inland, but they’d pay half of what he’d be able to charge on the island. The last thing he wanted to do was to drive further to sell them so cheaply, but he always did what he had to do and always came home with empty baskets.

As he fished, the sun rose above him. He looked out over the bridge, which sloped high and towered in the middle allowing for boats to pass under it with ease. He knew he had the best possible view of the sunrise that the island offered, tinged with red and orange, the yellow fingers of warmth wrapping around him as the island began to move again. Birds called out above the water, seeking the very same fish and crabs he’d plucked out of it himself. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, sitting on the dock, knowing that everything he loved in the world stretched out above, in front, behind him. The ocean, the sunrise, his home. He no longer felt the loneliness that had gripped him hours before, the feeling he’d pushed out of his mind with a good book. It was at sunrise that he remembered why he’d left everything in his past behind him, and he felt truly free.

He let himself reflect on it, to take it all in until the sun had reached higher into the sky, until the blue had overtaken the firey colors that had stretched across before. It was time, he knew, and he got dressed, changing out of his pajama pants and button down and into actual clothing. In the mirror, he reminded himself of the words he’d use to convince Danny, the chef at Miguel’s, that crab tacos were a good plan, then rehearsed what he’d say at JT’s. He’d done it a million times, at least a couple of days a week, but every time he’d go, he felt nervous.

Rhett didn’t care much for talking, for making the small talk required for a small community where everyone knew everyone else. It seemed like small towns had a system, asking about each other’s lives without really caring what the answer was, but knowing that if you didn’t ask, you were being imposlite. He rarely offered up information about himself when he’d speak, focusing instead on his end of the bargain-- asking how they were and letting them talk about their own lives. He’d try hard to seamlessly transition into the weather forecast for the day, or the price of what he was selling. He was kind enough not to be considered too rude or too strange, but he’d refused every offer to go get a drink at the Pelican, which made him just strange enough in everyone’s book. He was too local to be an outsider, but too much of an outsider to truly be a local.

It didn’t really matter to Rhett, though. As long as he had a place to sell his crabs and fish, he was satisfied. He hadn’t moved to the tiny island to be constantly surrounded by people. It was simply the unintended consequence of living in a small town, so he dealt with it as much as he could before retreating back to the quiet comfort of his own home and the privacy it allowed. Rhett constantly felt caught between two pulls-- the loneliness in the night that he tried to force away, stuffing it down with books, and the desire to be alone, to keep to himself and avoid any close connections the island might bring him.

Rhett knew he had too many crab baskets and fish-filled buckets to bike if he wanted to sell the creatures in a single trip. Even if he attached the side basket to his bike, it wouldn’t be big enough or strong enough to carry everything he had that day. But as he got downstairs, he remembered it wouldn’t be an option anyway, the front wheel of his bike bent and broken beyond repair. He knew he’d likely have to trash it, the rest of the bike damaged, too, and that frustrated him to no end. A new bike wasn’t exactly in his budget.

Rhett might have asked the stranger he’d nearly run over to pay for the damage, since Rhett had called out a warning and the stranger had refused to answer. He knew there was no way he’d ever see a dime. After all, the stranger hadn’t even been willing to give up his real name, probably in fear of Rhett asking him to pay for it, and instead insisted on using the joke name Rhett had referred to him as. He’d come with zero clothing, save for the wetsuit on his back. It hit Rhett that he’d had a puzzled, confused look on his face when pressed for even the most basic of information. The Missing Link of a man just seemed  _ weird _ . Rhett shook his head. The bike would be one he’d have to fix on his own eventually.

He hauled each bucket and bushel basket into the bed of his truck and looped a cord around them, holding them in place as he hooked the cord to each side of the truck bed. Climbing into the cab, he decided to try his hand at Miguel’s first. If he was lucky, they might even throw in some tamales if they decided to buy.

Rhett knocked on the bright green door, waiting for the staff to come and unlock it. From inside, he heard a holler of “we’re not open yet!”

“It’s Rhett. I’ve got some crabs and fish, wonderin’ if you’re interested.”

Within seconds, he heard the familiar click of a door unlocking and it swung open before him.

“We could maybe use a few, make some crab tacos or something later. Come on in, Rhett.” Rhett reached down and picked up the heavy basket he’d selected, the one that held the best crabs, and hauled them inside the corridor. Miguel’s was tiny, without any tables inside. It was a simple lobby where you could order and leave, a small doorway leading to the kitchen right when you stepped inside. Rhett turned toward the kitchen, carrying it in as Danny held the door open for him.

“What do we have today?” Danny peered over the edge of the basket, lifting a few crabs gently to get a better look at them. They were big and full of meat. If Danny was feeling generous, willing to offer Rhett a good price, even just three or four crabs could fetch Rhett a small fortune, plus a few tamales. But it all hinged on Danny’s willingness to actually buy some, and if he did, Rhett could never be sure how many to count on. Sometimes Danny bought just a few, as though he planned to eat them personally, and other times he bought plenty, planning to make tacos until the meat ran out. Rhett studied Danny’s face for a sign, trying to gauge his interest. It was a good sign when Danny stood upright and walked to get a large cooking pot. Crabs had to be steamed live, so if Danny was grabbing a pot, it meant he definitely planned to buy.

“Let’s do, uh…” Danny paused to silently count the crabs in the basket, “the whole basket. Would you take $250 for them?” It was a fair offer, exactly what Rhett had expected to charge for the crabs, but he couldn’t help but try to weasel out a little more.

“I can do 12 of them for $250,” Rhett countered, knowing the basket contained a good 15 or 16 crabs in it.

“How about the whole lot for $300?” Danny offered up the amount firmly, making it clear it would be his final offer for the day.

“Throw in some tamales?” Rhett arched an eyebrow. He’d planned beans and rice for dinner, and tamales would be the perfect addition. He was thrilled when Danny agreed, and he allowed Danny to pluck out the crabs, leaving him with an empty basket. He’d take the rest to JT’s, see if they needed any for crab cakes or serving up steamed. Danny being willing to purchase was a great omen that JT’s would want some. It meant the usual supplier wasn’t bringing quite enough to the island, and Rhett hoped this would be a trend that stuck around.

Danny bought a few fish, too, pleased with the size of what Rhett had caught. Dinner couldn’t get any fresher than this on the island. Rhett had caught the fish at four or five in the morning, and before it reached four in the afternoon, the fish would be inside a taco for a customer.

Rhett tossed his bag of tamales in the seat next to him as he climbed into the cab of his truck. On the island, tamales were a hot commodity. Danny and the crew made them fresh each morning and served them until they were sold out. When they were gone, they were gone, and Rhett knew he’d gotten the first of the batch. He planned to save them for lunch or dinner, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and devouring one immediately, while it was still fresh, as he drove to JT’s.

On the north side of the island, JT’s was tucked past trees and hidden well. It overlooked the bay, and it certainly lived up to the motto it held about serving up sunsets daily. Rhett knew it was the perfect spot for a great view of the sun setting in the west, not because he’d eaten there, but because the view was very similar to his own. He’d never eaten at JT’s because the prices were much too high for his meager budget, and the company wasn’t exactly what he was after anyway, typically an endless string of tourists or locals he didn’t want to interact with.

Rhett was thrilled to offload another basket and a half of crabs, plus some fish, at JT’s. They rarely paid as well as Danny did, and there was no offer of tamales on the table, but Rhett loved being able to sell as many crabs as he could before he reached Skinner’s, knowing the seafood market would offer him as little as they could for what remained of his stock.

Before noon, Rhett was done with work, pulling back under his house for the day. He liked it, how he could get up before the sun and work until noon, then have the rest of the day free for reading or listening to music. He pulled the cookie jar off of the top of his fridge and tucked the money he’d received inside. One of these days, he knew he’d need to leave the island and take some of the money to the bank, but for now, no one was ever going to look for cookies in that jar. It had never held cookies, not since arriving at his home after he found it at a garage sale for a dollar. A glance at the cash inside told him he’d be okay on bills for the next few months, but he knew things would get lean when tourism died down in the fall, and even worse when crabbing season was over and even the locals would have to stop buying.

For now, though, it was okay, and that’s what mattered to Rhett, getting by for as long as he could. He placed the jar safely back atop the fridge and emptied his beans into water to soak, then returned to his book, dozing off in his chair before he’d even finished the next page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Sunday with the next chapter! (I could maybe be convinced to drop it early... if people come ask nicely over on [tumblr](http://linkslipssinkships.tumblr.com)).


	3. Starved

Link’s stomach was growling impossibly loud. Three days on the island, and he’d managed to secure a small amount of water, but nothing else. He’d asked for a cup of water at the food stand near the ferry a couple of times until they started to get annoyed with him asking for water but nothing else. He was afraid to push his luck, so he’d kept his request to one cup a day, hoping no one would notice how long he’d been there. He hadn’t eaten, though, and he was starting to question whether or not he was above digging through the trash for remnants of others’ meals. He’d only pick the cleanest food, he hoped, but he felt that any food, even discarded food, had to be better than nothing at all.

After a while, he found himself sitting on top of a picnic table nearest the trash cans. He watched as someone discarded half a container of fries getting on the ferry, and they looked pristine, like maybe he could salvage them. The fries were right there on top, and he started toward them, hoping to snatch them without anyone seeing, but someone beat him to the trash can by a few paces, overturning a half-full soft drink onto them. It was soul-crushing for Link, feeling the pangs in his stomach getting more insistent as he watched the first possible chance he’d had at eating get ruined by the way someone so carelessly discarded their drink.

It wasn’t worth trying to salvage the fries, he decided. They’d be disgusting and soggy, coated in cola. He was desperate, but not quite  _ that  _ desperate for food. He wondered if he wandered the island, if maybe he’d find something in a slower area, a trash can that had fewer people throwing their stuff on top of the potential bounty. But he was tired, too tired to seriously consider walking away from where he was.

His sleep had been restless, near impossible, since the wooden tables were uncomfortable and the air was too cold overnight. What little he slept was compounded by the fact that he hadn’t been eating, and it caused him to feel completely drained. He was certain he was dehydrated, a few cups of water spread out over days not remotely close to quenching the thirst he felt.

Link wondered how much longer he’d even be able to make it. He didn’t know how long he’d been laying on the beach or how long he’d been in the ocean before he’d washed up on the shore, so he could have gone without eating for three days or three weeks and wouldn’t have known which it was. If he didn’t find food soon, he feared he’d drop dead on the spot. It was something he hoped to avoid, and while it was a dark thought, he entertained it for a few minutes, wondering how long it might take him to starve to death. He may have eaten hours before reaching the shore he’d woken on, or perhaps days, and he didn’t have the chance to risk it, to see if he’d be okay without eating any longer.

For a moment, he contemplated swallowing his pride and walking back to Rhett’s house, the only place on the island he knew, the only person he’d really met. Begging for help, maybe a ride, a drink, something, seemed more than he was willing or able to do. He’d already taken clothes from Rhett, and a shower, and he’d even ruined Rhett’s bike, he was sure of it. No, he knew he needed to tough it out, pray his memory returned, and hope beyond hope he’d find unspoiled fries soon.

As the last ferry ride of the night departed just before sunset, Link found his way to the trash cans. There was almost no one around, everyone heading back to their respective spaces on the island or having left on the last ferry. He spotted half a burger, still partially wrapped up, and it looked clean. Clean enough that he could eat it, at least. Link tried to stomach the thought of eating a burger that someone else’s mouth had been on, but as his stomach growled loudly, he pushed the thought aside and resigned himself to the fact that he didn’t have a choice. It was eating or starving, so he fished the burger out of the bin. It took him only seconds to shove it into his mouth in two solid bites. He wished he’d taken his time with it, or that he’d had more to eat, but he was happy to have what he did, knowing it could be awhile before he’d have more. His worry about germs was completely gone, drowned out by the taste of the first food he’d had in days. He didn’t mind that the burger had gone cold, couldn’t complain about the temperature of it if it bought him time to find more food or to find his memory.

Eventually, the heat of the gulf air dissolved into a soft breeze as the sunset stretched it’s golden fingertips over him, the pink haze dipping over the horizon on the side of the island opposite him. Link had to admit sunset was the best part of being on the island. He was starving, had the most uncomfortable place to sleep, and had absolutely no memory of who he was or where he’d come from, but at least he had the sunset. In some ways, it made him long for something he didn’t recall. He worried that if he left the island, seeking his home and trying to find his way back, that he’d end up more confused or never find his way. Instead, he perched himself on top of the table and watched the sunset.

He stretched out across the table top and put his arm over his eyes, hoping for sleep. He’d long abandoned the skinny bench he’d first tried to sleep on days before. The tabletop wasn’t any more comfortable, but it was certainly wider, which meant he didn’t have to face the terrifying thought of rolling off of it onto the concrete in his sleep.

* * *

 

Rhett heard a pounding in his head, inside of his dream, and he could almost feel the reverberation in his body. It took him a bit too long to realize that the pounding was real, not a dream, and was coming from his own front door. When he figured it out, he pulled himself from the dream, startled awake by the sound. He’d been sleeping soundly for several hours, his body finally deciding to compensate for the lack of sleep he’d had for days now. At the noise, though, his sleep was abruptly halted. He pried himself out of bed, then quickly stepped down the spiral staircase to the main floor. The knocking persisted, a few knocks, a pause, and a few more knocks.

“Okay, okay! I’m coming!” Rhett yelled toward the door, peering at where a watch would have been had he still worn won. Years of being here and his urge to check his wrist for the time still returned occasionally. Rhett opened the door and blinked. “Link?” Rhett knew it wasn’t his real name, but since the man hadn’t offered up anything else, it was all he could stammer out. He took in the sight of Link standing there, in the same clothes Rhett had given him days ago, being held up by an officer on each side. Link looked at the officer on his right with a slight smirk.

“See? I told you,” Link said smugly.

“Does he live here?” The officer started. “We caught him sleeping on a picnic table over by the ferry, and I’m pretty sure he was trying to sober up. He told us he’s renting one of your rooms?” The officer nodded toward the inside of the house, as if gesturing to ensure Link really did live there. Rhett was stunned, didn’t respond for a moment as he tried to figure out exactly what was happening and why Link had lied to the officers, and to him.

“Yeah, uh… yeah.” Rhett stuttered the words out. Why the heck had Link said he lived there? “He’s staying here for a bit. Thanks for getting him home.” Rhett reached toward the door and grabbed Link’s wrist, tugging him forward hard to say  _ get in here _ . He had no idea what was going on, but after his weird encounter with Link days ago, he needed to find out right away. The clothing, the early morning wake up call from the police, the lies about the man’s name… all of it was an excellent sign that something was seriously amiss.

The officers thanked Rhett and apologized for waking him in the middle of the night. Rhett closed the door behind them. Had the windows not been open, he would have lit into Link immediately, demanding answers, but the officers were still within earshot, so he bit his tongue. Link seemed to acknowledge the same and stood there, waiting until he heard the doors of the police cruiser close.

“Thanks, m--”

“Who the hell are you?” Rhett cut him off. “What are you doing here? Why did you tell them that you live here?”

Link swallowed hard, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I… uh… I… I don’t know.” He hung his head and looked down at his bare feet on the hardwood floor of Rhett’s living room. Rhett followed his gaze and noticed Link’s bare feet, too.

“Where are your shoes?” Rhett hadn’t gotten answers, not satisfying ones, to the first several questions he asked, but it didn’t stop him from asking more.

“I don’t have any.” Link didn’t know why, but his eyes were welling with tears, and he refused to look up at Rhett yet. Rhett was grilling him, and it was the only question he could easily provide an answer to. Rhett yawned, not out of boredom, but out of intense fatigue, and he snapped his jaw shut like he was trying not to let on just how exhausted he was. He held a finger up toward Link, encouraging him to hold any further thoughts.

“I’m going to make some coffee. You’re going to sit down on that couch. When I get back over here, you’re going to tell me everything because you are seriously freaking me out right now.” Rhett was a large man, a tall man with broad shoulders and a bigger frame. He was skinny, certainly, but he was big enough and tall enough that he could be intimidating. He didn’t need to be afraid of anyone, not seriously. But Link’s odd behavior was enough to make him feel uneasy, and he questioned what the deal was. He backed away from Link, studying him and refusing to actually turn his back to him. He didn’t know what Link was capable of, or who he was at all. Rhett watched Link out of the corner of his eye as he scooped coffee into the filter, accidentally spilling some onto the counter as he did. He started the pot and waited for it to brew, then poured two cups. Rhett brought one of the cups to Link, offering it to him.

Link blinked at the mug in Rhett’s hand, at first seeming unsure if he should accept, so Rhett placed it on the side table between them, leaving the offer open as he settled into his chair across the room and took a sip from his own mug. Link watched him carefully, then picked up the mug next to him, taking a small drink and instantly grimacing.

“It’s uh… it’s very strong.” Link tried to dial down the insult, make it seem like a comment instead of a complaint. It didn’t slow him down from drinking it, though, and he drained the cup shortly after. The speed with which he drank it made Rhett wonder how much he’d had to eat or drink since he’d last left Rhett’s house.

“Sorry about that. I, uh, I need it strong. Usually work early in the mornings, y’know?” Rhett offered the words up like an apology, his tone getting softer and less demanding now that he was seated and starting to get caffeinated. Now, he looked more gentle, more compassionate, than he did when he was standing tall. Link nodded silently. “Listen, Link… whatever your real name is… I need to know what the story is. The last time I saw you, you showered here, and now you’re sleeping on a bench days later in the clothes I gave you. You won’t tell me what your real name is, and it’s just… it’s weird, man! I don’t want to call the cops back here or anything, but I need you to tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.” Link sat quietly and picked up his mug again. He struggled to get another drop out of the mug, finding his attempt unsuccessful, so he sat it back down and cleared his throat.

“I can’t tell you my name,” Link started.

“Why? Why can’t you tell me? Are you like, the worst witness in witness protection or something? Did you forget your assigned identity?” Rhett tried to make light of the situation, despite the terror that gripped him, tried to joke about the fact that a stranger was in his living room refusing to tell him even the most basic information.

“No, I’m not. Or… maybe I am? I don’t know. That’s the thing. It isn’t that I don’t want to tell you my name. It’s that I honestly can’t remember what my name is.” Link sighed and leaned back into the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I don’t remember  _ anything _ .”

“You don’t… remember anything?” Rhett tried to wrap his head around it, tried to understand what Link meant when he said he remembered nothing.

“Like I get basic concepts, okay?” Link huffed. “I know what a bike is, or a house. I’m not totally stupid, and I haven’t forgotten what things are. But like… I don’t know who  _ I  _ am, or what I’m doing here, why I’m here, how I got here.” Link tried desperately to explain something he didn’t fully understand himself, rushing the words out quickly, and he seemed agitated. Rhett imagiend Link was more annoyed with the situation than with Rhett, annoyed that he couldn’t remember the important things, and Rhett tried to be understanding.

“Start from the beginning,” Rhett suggested. “What do you know?” Link filled Rhett in on everything he knew, start to finish, from the time he’d woken up on the beach until he’d met Rhett. He explained everything after that, too, through the stolen burger from the trash can, and that part made Rhett flinch. He couldn’t blame Link for eating it-- he would have been desperate, too-- but the thought of picking half a burger out of the trash can repulsed him.

“I fell asleep on the picnic table,” Link continued. “The next thing I knew, they were shining lights into my face. They asked if I was drunk, if I’d been drinking at some… some flamingo place? I don’t really know. They asked my name and everything, and I told them Link because I didn’t know what else to say. Then they asked where I lived.”

Rhett nodded and tried to keep up with everything Link was telling him. He imagined this was the part of the story where he came in again, where Link directed the officers to his house, but he didn’t understand why Link would tell them that he lived here.

“The thing is, I don’t know where I live, you know? So I told them that I’d gotten lost trying to get back to the place I’d been renting a room at, that I’d gone on a walk and lost my way in the dark. I told them I ended up falling asleep. I thought they’d accept the story, that I could just walk a little ways and find another place to crash, but they insisted on checking to see if I was sober and then refused to let me go without taking me home.”

“So you told them you lived here,” Rhett caught up. He still didn’t get it, why  _ here  _ of all places?

“They said they’d arrest me if I didn’t let them take me home. I’m really sorry, but this was the only place I knew.” Link’s voice quivered.

“I get it. You didn’t know what to tell them, and I can’t blame you for that. You were in a pinch.” Rhett stood up, picking up his cup of coffee and reaching for Link’s. He walked into the kitchen and poured each of them another cup, noticing that the sun was still rising. He still hadn’t checked his crab traps and mentally cursed himself. He knew today was going to be a bad day, a day where he couldn’t sell anything. If he didn’t get to the restaurants and to the market before his competitors did, there was no point in going at all. He’d have to try again the following day.

Rhett handed the cup of coffee back to Link, the mug now full, and settled back into his own chair before continuing to talk.

“Just because I understand doesn’t mean I can help you, though. I don’t really know what I could do to help you out. I mean, maybe you can see a doctor or something. If you need to use my phone to call one, feel free, but other than that, I don’t really know.” Rhett had no idea what he needed to do or how he could help Link out.

“Yeah, that’s… it’s all okay. Thanks for getting me off the hook with the cops. And for the clothes, I really appreciate it. I’ll try to lay low from now on.” Link downed his cup of coffee quickly again, and Rhett gave himself the opportunity to look at Link, to  _ really  _ look at him. He looked tired, dark circles lingering under his bright blue eyes. He probably needed the coffee more than Rhett did. His dark hair fell in wisps on his face, long and shaggy around the sides. His stubble was thick, making it obvious that he hadn’t shaved in days. With the bare feet and the lack of shave, it was clear to Rhett now why the police would have assumed he was drunk or even homeless. He looked rough. Link studied the empty mug in his hands. “Can I ask a huge favor?”

"Sure, I mean… yeah, maybe,” Rhett answered. He’d said yes before finding out what the favor was, then worried Link would ask something he couldn’t offer, like  _ actually  _ letting him rent a room.

“Do you, uh… do you mind if I use your shower one more time? I’m really sorry to ask, but…” Link let himself trail off, hoping Rhett would understand.

“Yeah, go for it. And, uh… I don’t have anywhere I need to be today, so if you want to hang out here for a bit, I can get you a change of clothes and you can wash the ones you’re wearing if that helps, before you leave I mean.” Rhett knew he could part with another set of clothes, let Link have them, and wash these. He imagined the clothes Link wore now were probably smelled terrible if Link was swallowing his pride to ask to use the shower, and he could practically smell Link from across the room now that Link mentioned it.

Link accepted the offer of a change of clothes, and this time, Rhett offered up his own shower inside the house, let Link clean up with his toiletries instead of water alone, so he’d be smelling a lot better than he had after the quick rinse Rhett had offered up days before. As Rhett loaded the clothing he’d loaned Link the first time into the washing machine under the house, he knew one thing for sure. He was going to be polite and hospitable for the day, even give Link a meal because god knew he needed one, but there was no way in  _ hell  _ he was letting Link stay.


	4. Hospitality

Link studied himself in the mirror, noticing how rough his face looked. He was unshaven and he wondered if he usually had facial hair or not. If so, he doubted it got this long, because he was unimpressed with how his face looked in the mirror. He figured it was no wonder the police assumed he was some sort of drunken wanderer, because he looked _rough_. Link ran his fingers through his dark, damp hair, then stood at full height and straightened the tee shirt Rhett had offered him. It smelled good, earthy, but then, so did everything compared to how he’d smelled after days with no shower and unwashed clothing.

The last thing Link wanted to do was take advantage of the hospitality he was being offered, but at the same time, he knew his breath had to be just as appalling as the rest of him had been before the shower. He searched through the cabinets for mouthwash and, when he found it, he used the corner of his towel to scrape the excess gunk from his teeth. Brushing them would have been nice, but he wasn’t going to impose so much as to use Rhett’s toothbrush. He did, however, swish with the mouthwash, rinsing the sink out and placing it back very carefully when he was done, hoping Rhett wouldn’t notice, or if he did, that he wouldn’t mind. Slowly but surely, Link was starting to feel slightly more human.

As he climbed down the stairs, his bare feet silently grazed the cool metal of the spiral staircase. He saw Rhett standing in the kitchen, carefully cleaning a fish. Link wasn’t sure what to say at first, so he just stood there, watched as Rhett’s hands moved meticulously, but quickly, over the fish. Rhett was leaned over the countertop, which seemed far too short for a man his size. Link looked at how his back curved over the counter slightly, like Rhett was trying to lean close, ensure he’d gotten the fish cleaned perfectly. Link noticed the large tattoo on his arm, too, something he hadn’t spotted the first time they’d met on the beach. He’d noticed it earlier, when they’d talked that morning, but this was the first chance he’d gotten to truly look at it, see the detail and artistry that went into it. It was like a forest wrapped around Rhett’s forearm, the trunks starting at his wrist, and the trees-- redwoods, maybe?-- snaking up nearly to his elbow. It was all black-on-skin, and it was more intricate than Link would have assumed at first, tiny branches peeking through larger, thicker bits of leaves.

Link couldn’t help but stare while he thought, tried to form the right words to thank Rhett. He couldn’t say thanks enough, really, considering Rhett had kept him from getting arrested and let him use his shower, but he certainly wanted to try to thank him nonetheless. Instead, Link cleared his throat and caused Rhett to jump slightly before setting the filet knife aside. He wiped his hands on a rag that was tucked into the front of his jeans, slightly off-center. It seemed like it had some scales and grime on it from the fish being cleaned even before Rhett started to wipe his hands this time. Link winced slightly. He wasn’t sure if he liked fish or not, but the process of cleaning it seemed to be a bit gruesome in his mind.

“Hey, you hungry?” Rhett asked. Link’s mind changed on fish instantly, or at least, his stomach changed his mind for him as it answered with a loud growl. “I’m cleaning the fish now, figured I could cook it here in a minute, and I’ve got rice. I know it’s not much, but…”

“You don’t need to share your lunch with me. Seriously, I appreciate it a lot but you’ve already done so much…” Link wanted to eat. His stomach was pleading desperately for him to accept, but Rhett had been hospitable already, and Link didn’t want to impose or take more than he could ever repay. He was frustrated enough that he couldn’t offer anything in return for the clothes Rhett had let him use.

“Just stay for lunch, man. The other clothes are still drying, so you can’t leave yet anyway.” Rhett shrugged nonchalantly, but his tone of voice was insistent, like he wouldn’t let Link leave without feeding him. Rhett was certain the half cheeseburger was all he’d had to eat since he got to the island. A half cheeseburger in the span of days wasn’t nearly enough, and even though Rhett didn’t have much, just rice and a couple of fish, he knew he needed to make sure Link ate before he left. If Link keeled over from starvation, it would be the talk of the island. He’d never forgive himself if he could have helped and didn’t.

“I feel bad for taking another set of clothes with me. I can just wear these, it’s fine.” Link was trying so hard not to impose that Rhett felt offended. Did he not give off the vibe of a guy who was willing to help? _No, clearly you don’t, Rhett? Why would you?_ Rhett kicked himself over how standoffish he must have seemed to Link. He didn’t interact with people much, by choice admittedly, and he wondered if his interrogation earlier left Link feeling like Rhett was rude. But when Rhett looked up from the fish again, Link had wandered over to the bookshelves and was running his fingers softly over the spines of the books. It looked like Link might actually take Rhett up on the offer to stay for lunch after all, considering he hadn’t left yet.

“Do you, um… do you have a favorite one?” Link asked, still facing the bookshelf. His back was to Rhett as he studied the books like he was trying to figure out on his own which one, out of the hundreds of titles, might be the one Rhett loved the most. Rhett glanced up from the fish he was seasoning and placing on a pan.

“I really like _Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World,_ ” Rhett answered. “It’s by Haruki Murakami,” he added, watching Link scan the shelf for it, then plucking it off of the shelves and holding it in his hands, out from between some of Rhett’s other favorites from the same author. “It’s pretty surreal, but it talks a lot about identity and reality.” Rhett had started with _After the Quake_ years ago, then immediately devoured any other Murakami works he could get his hands on. Rhett had few vices, couldn’t really afford a lot of them now, but for him, books were irresistible.

Each month, he’d make the drive off of the island to a local bookstore, purchasing a stack of used titles. He easily dropped a couple hundred dollars on new things to read, paperbacks he’d devour quickly. He knew that a month was too long of a wait, and he didn’t want to run out between trips, so he made the most of each visit to the bookstore. Usually stingy with his money, it was a wonder Rhett didn’t use the library or the local lending library in town. But Rhett was one to keep a favorite book forever, return to it again and again, and the library didn’t allow for that. Rhett made an exception with his money for the books that kept him company during lonely early mornings and quiet afternoons. Seeing Link browse his over-stuffed shelves with wonder and admiration made Rhett smile with pride. He’d curated a great collection of favorite books, and to have someone browsing them was rare. If he was honest, letting anyone into his house itself was a rarity. Rhett stirred the rice, adding salt and pepper, then heaping it onto two plates as he watched Link study the back cover of the book he mentioned.

“You can borrow it if you want.” Rhett was generally unwilling to part with any of his beloved books, especially one that was so significant to him, his favorite above all of the others. But he knew how much books helped him to feel less alone. When he truly felt like he had nothing, books were always there. In front of him was a man who _truly_ had nothing, to a far stronger degree than Rhett could ever fully comprehend, and he knew he couldn’t let Link leave without offering to loan him the book.

“Thanks. It looks really interesting,” Link said, smiling as he tucked the book carefully under his arm. He walked toward the kitchen, toward Rhett. “Can I help with anything?”

“I’m just finishing up.” Rhett reached into the oven to pull the pan out, the fish white now and clearly ready to eat. “Is water okay?” Rhett wasn’t sure why he asked, since it was all he had to offer other than the bottle of whiskey he kept tucked away for the nights when he _really_ needed it to numb himself from the world. Link nodded, and Rhett filled a glass with water, passing it over the counter to Link. When the two sat down at the table, silence hung between them heavily. Neither of them were quite sure what to say to the other. Rhett opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without a word. He watched Link do the same.

“Do you have a favorite book?” _God, Rhett, could you be any dumber? How would he know what his favorite book is if he doesn’t even know his name?_ “I mean… you know what? Nevermind.” Rhett sighed and looked down at his plate. Link smirked with understanding, and sensed the embarrassment clearly from the sight of Rhett’s flushed cheeks.

“Not at the moment,” Link offered. “I bet this one will be high on my list of favorites, though. I mean, considering it’ll be the only one on my list of ‘books I know I’ve read.’” Link patted the book gently.

“It was a dumb question,” Rhett smiled, rolling his eyes at himself.

“This fish is good.” Link had eaten nearly everything on his plate already in the time they’d been silent. Rhett was usually a quick eater, often devouring his own food in minutes, but somehow, Link was beating him to it. Rhett knew it was because he had to be absolutely famished.

“It’s fresh. I caught it while you were in the shower,” Rhett said, his cheek full of the last few bites of rice.

“Seriously?” Link was stunned. _Was I showering that long?_ Rhett had somehow managed to catch and start cleaning a fish in what felt like minutes.

“Yeah.” Rhett placed the dishes in the sink after giving them a quick rinse. He’d wash them later, but for now, Link was likely still hungry. Rhett fished around in a cabinet for his other vice, tossing a twin pack of snack cakes to Link. The pack landed solidly on the table in front of him, then slid off. Link barely caught it before the cakes could hit the ground. He inspected the package, then opened it as he heard Rhett ruffling with the packaging to open his own. Link devoured the first cake in a single bites, taking his time to savor the second cake after.

Rhett ate his, too, then jumped at the sound of the dryer buzzing. Link knew it meant the clothes he’d been wearing were dry, and he stood up, knowing it was time for him to take the clothes and head out. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome after Rhett had already been so generous.

“Thank you. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.” Link reached to shake Rhett’s hand as he reached the bottom of the steps. “If… _when_ … I remember who I am, I will find you and repay you. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rhett offered a slight smile. “It’s the least I can do. Just, uh… when you’re done with the book, can you maybe bring it back or something? It’s my only copy. You can keep the clothes.”

* * *

 

Link walked down the sidewalk, taking his time. He had nowhere to be, nothing to do, so he could look around and take stock of where he was, the place he’d somehow been put in seemingly at random. Everything looked nice enough, the kind of place he hoped he might have chosen to visit on vacation or something. The island operated at its own pace, he felt, the people wandering at a slower speed, the tourists pointing things out through their car windows.

He wondered where he should go, where he could stay in the afternoon or evening. The picnic table was ruled out quickly, in his mind, for obvious reasons. The last thing he needed was for the cops to find him again, knowing he couldn’t explain it away as easily a second time. Instead, he found himself walking toward the public beach he’d first found himself on, looking for a way to sneak around the entrance fee posted. It was his hope that if he walked along the beach he’d been on that first day, it would jog his memory and remind him of how he’d gotten there in the first place, so when he successfully snuck around, he walked slowly through the white sand.

After an hour of walking up the beach in one direction, Link still hadn’t the slightest idea who he was or how he’d gotten to the beach he’d landed on. He turned back in the opposite direction, no clearer than he’d been before. His legs were sore under the heaviness of the loose, white sand. Instead of continuing, he settled himself onto the sand, carefully opening the book Rhett had loaned him. It was clear Rhett had read and re-read the book. The pages were worn, the spine broken. Rhett didn’t seem to be a careless reader, not one to dog-ear pages or fold or crinkle the edges at all, but the love and passion he held for the book was clear in the thumb indentations on each side where he’d held the book to read it. It was clear in the small notes or underlines in the text that Rhett hadn’t just read the book, but instead, he’d had a conversation with it.

Link wondered if he’d ever read the book before himself, if he’d encountered the author before he forgot who he was. The name didn’t ring a bell, but then again, what did? He turned page after page, reading the book until the sun set above him. Tendrils of pink and purple wrapped their way through the clouds, the sky getting darker above him. He still had enough light to read by, just barely, and continued to read until he was squinting to make out the words in the darkness, holding the book inches from his face.

When the sun disappeared below the horizon, leaving Link with only the light of the moon, he found himself unable to read a single word. He took that as a cue to wander toward the nearby condos, seeing their outdoor lights still on. There was no chance he’d be able to get through the gates to sit in the pool area, as they each required a key card. But near the fence, in the sand, he was able to have enough light to read by. He sat next to the boardwalk and read. Link was mostly concealed by the darkness, no one noticing the figure sitting and reading in the sand. Link couldn’t put the book down, desperate to find out what happened in the End of the World. He was lost in the words on the page, consumed by the world that had overtaken him in the fiction he was devouring. He didn’t have anything else to compare this to, no other books he could remember reading, but he understood easily why this was Rhett’s favorite.

As the sun rose again, Link barely took notice of it. He turned the last few pages of the book, engrossed. It wasn’t until he closed the book after reading the final pages that he realized he’d spent the entire night reading, that he hadn’t slept for even a few minutes. He wasn’t tired yet, still invigorated by the words he’d read. He’d loved the way the fiction had gripped him beginning to end. If he’d had a pen and some paper, he would have written a note to Rhett to thank him for letting him borrow the book. As it was, he didn’t have that as an option. And, as it turned out, he wasn’t quite ready to return the book, either.

Instead, he found himself turning the pages of the book, flipping back and forth to his favorite parts. He wanted to take them in one final time before taking the book back to Rhett. He’d rushed to finish the book, the figure out the ending it had, and he’d worried that he’d failed to properly take note of the passages that spoke to his soul. He smiled when he’d see a line he loved only to notice Rhett had already underlined or marked the same passage himself. But soon he was tired, his eyes attempting to slip closed as he read. He knew he needed to get up, take a walk, or he’d risk dozing off in the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Saturday with Chapter 5. If you love it, please check out my other long-form fics like [Suit and Jacket](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110155/chapters/24793554) or find me [on tumblr!](https://linkslipssinkships.tumblr.com)


	5. Spark

Rhett shuffled his feet along the gravel rocks outside of Miguel’s. With no luck selling crab there, or at JT’s, he’d have to head to Skinner’s. He knew he should be happy for the extra income he’d managed for a few days, but now that they were well-stocked by their usual suppliers, he’d have to settle for less. It wasn’t that Skinner’s gave him an unfair price-- they certainly didn’t-- but he could charge more at the restaurants, and that would pay off a lot in the off-season when he couldn’t sell crabs at all.

He hadn’t been sleeping, and wasn’t sure why he’d been struggling so much lately. When he did sleep, it was restless and he’d wake easily, and the night before, he’d imagined he’d heard the pounding at the door again. This time, when he raced to open it, no one was there. Anytime he crawled under the covers, it felt a little bit like crawling under a weight, a feeling that he couldn’t shake. Sleeping on top of the covers instead left him feeling vulnerable, and his anxiety started to tug at the corners of his mind. So instead, he read, dozing off in his chair the night before, and it had led to another late start in the morning. He knew better than to let that happen, but he couldn’t help it, and now he was missing out.

Rhett pulled into the space under his house, parking his truck. As he stepped out, he nearly tripped over the strap on Link’s surfboard. Rhett hadn’t even realized Link had left it there, probably on the first day he’d been there. He couldn’t help but think about Link then, where he’d slept the night before. The police hadn’t brought him back, so either Link found a more secluded spot to sleep, or he’d managed to remember his previous life and gone back home.  _ If he wasn’t lying about his memory _ .

Rhett sincerely wondered how anyone could forget everything about themselves, yet still remember basic information like what a shower was or how to read. It seemed to Rhett like Link was a con artist, or maybe a homeless man with an elaborate backstory to scam food and a shower from Rhett, some new clean clothing. Of course, Rhett had fallen into the trap, given him just what he’d wanted. Rhett considered he could be like one of the people who stood on a street corner, collected change until the end of the day before walking around the corner to a shiny, brand-new Lexus.  _ If that’s true, why was he sleeping on a picnic table?  _ There was something about Link that made Rhett want to believe him, against all odds. If it was true, Rhett felt badly for not helping more. He had the space, the extra rooms, but the last thing he wanted was to have someone invade his house, his private space to think and be alone, shut out of the madness that the world could bring sometimes.

Rhett decided to shut out the intrusive inner debate about Link’s honesty and whether or not he’d done enough to help. The best way for Rhett to tune that out, of course, was to read. While he’d often sit on the balcony outside of his bedroom on nice days, look out at the sparkling bay waters over the top of his book and listen to the waves lap against each other, against his dock, he didn’t feel like being outside today. Instead, he settled into his chair, turning the first few pages of the book absently until he spotted a figure lurking by his mailbox. Rhett squinted, trying to get a better look, when he saw the man open his mailbox, placing something inside hours after the mail was typically delivered. Rhett pulled himself up out of his chair, taking long strides toward the door and reaching his front deck just in time.

“Hey, you know that’s illegal, right?” Rhett called over the deck toward the mailbox, stifling a laugh. Link jumped and slammed the mailbox shut quickly, startled.

“What? I’m… I’m sorry. What?” Link repeated himself, stammering the words out.

“Tampering with the mail. It’s a federal offense.” Link looked up at him, holding a hand to his brow to block out the sun. “I’m kidding, man. I mean, I’m not kidding that it’s… nevermind. I’m just, I was just giving you hell, y’know? You could have come to the door.”

“Oh, sorry,” Link called back. “Do you want me to bring it up?”

“Yeah, sure.” Rhett stood on the deck and watched as Link retrieved the book from the mailbox, grabbing the mail stuffed inside, too. He brought it up and handed all of it over to Rhett.

“I figured since I was coming up, I’d save you the trip.” Link spoke quietly as if he was afraid he’d done the wrong thing by bringing the mail up, too.

“Thanks, that helps a lot. Did you finish the book already or did you hate it and decide to give up?” Rhett knew the book wasn’t for everyone, the alternating chapter setting confusing and at times, a little dizzying.

“It was amazing. I...I couldn’t put it down for a second. I sat on the beach and read the entire night! Then I read some of it again, and… it was great. Thank you.” Link couldn’t contain his enthusiasm for the book, gushing over it, then trying to slow himself down to avoid frightening Rhett. “Everything with his shadow, I don’t know… I just… I can’t explain it.”

Rhett’s eyes lit up over their shared passion for the book, and he invited Link inside, asking him about his favorite parts, then sharing the pieces of the story he enjoyed most as he nestled the book back onto his bookshelf carefully. He pulled another favorite of Murakami’s and passed it to Link. “I think you’ll like this one, too. It’s surreal, just like the other one, but this time with talking cats. And the story… it’s exceptional.”

“Talking cats?” Link asked. Rhett nodded with a smile as Link turned the book over in his hands, reading the back.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Rhett said, then ducked his head to try to catch Link’s eyes. “So you went to the beach?”

“Yeah, I had an idea that if I went back to where I woke up, I’d remember something,” Link sighed.

“Did you?” Rhett wondered, fascinated and horrified by the thought of waking up somewhere and not knowing how you got there, where you came from, what it might feel like to know  _ nothing _ .

“No.” Link tapped the book against his hand. “I’ve still got nothing. I don’t know anything. But at least the book was there to keep me company.” Link paused for a moment. “Oh! And the police didn’t find me this time.” Rhett opened his mouth to respond when an egg timer he’d set chimed and shook, rattling against the countertop.

“Hold that thought.” Rhett held up a hand, then walked over to turn the stove burner off. He picked up the pot, placing a lid on it, slightly offset, so he could drain the liquid into the sink. He carefully seasoned the contents, then took two plates out of the cabinet to pile beans onto one half of each plate, followed by a scoop of rice from a separate pan. Link stood there, unsure of what to do. Rhett filled two glasses with water and set a plate and a glass at the seat Link had occupied for lunch the day before, then gathered his own plate and drink and sat down in his own seat. Rhett looked at Link, who apparently needed a verbal invitation to sit for lunch. “Are you joining me?” Rhett gestured at the empty seat.

“Yes, thank you.” Link politely answered and sat himself opposite Rhett, by the plate Rhett had left for him. He studied his plate, full of food, then looked across at Rhett’s. There was plenty of food on each plate, a full meal, and Link scrunched his eyebrows together. “Did you… did you know I was coming?” Rhett had clearly started cooking before Link had arrived, not certain he’d be coming with the book that day, but he’d prepared lunch for two.

“I usually make enough food for lunch and for dinner. Gets me out of having to cook twice in the same day,” Rhett shrugged. “I had plenty, so you may as well eat. I can cook something for dinner later, no big deal.” Rhett looked at his plate and mashed the beans into the rice, focusing on stirring them together.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize the time. I should have dropped the book off earlier, or… uh… later. I didn’t mean to, to intrude,” Link stammered. He worried that he’d come to Rhett’s house at a time that could be taken as inviting himself to the table.

“Can you stop stressing for like… like one freakin’ second? Seriously. I invited you in. I could have let you stick the book in my mailbox and gotten it later. I put the food on the plate. You didn’t ask me to do it. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have. I would have thanked you for bringing the book back and said goodbye, so just eat it, okay?” Rhett sounded completely exasperated, like he couldn’t believe he was having to explain it. But when he finished speaking, he smirked slightly and glanced up at Link. Link smiled, too, then shoveled a large bite of the food into his mouth. Despite the simplicity of the meal-- beans and rice-- it tasted incredible.

“You said the other day that you work really early in the morning, right? What do you do?” Link asked between bites. They’d barely talked much outside of when Link had shared his own story, and Link’s story was, of course, alarmingly short due to his lack of memory. They’d talked about Rhett’s love of books, too, but Link realized he didn’t know anything about the stranger who had been feeding him or welcoming him into his home for a shower.

“I’m a crabber. Usually, I get the crabs early so I can take them to restaurants and markets, you know, get there before my competitors do or I’m out of luck.” Rhett’s voice had a twinge of a groan on it as he thought back to his lack of success that morning. “I get up most days around four to get the crabs.” Rhett wasn’t used to conversation while he ate. It had been years, really, since he’d actually spoken to someone during meals. He’d adjusted to eating meals alone, doing everything alone, and having someone ask questions about his work seemed foreign. He didn’t like small talk much at all.

“You’ve got crabs. Is that something you tell the ladies on a first date?” Link chuckled, a small snort escaping as he did. Rhett rolled his eyes in response.  _ Yeah, like that’s the first time I’ve heard  _ that  _ one. _

“No, that’s not something I tell  _ anyone  _ on the first date.” Rhett scrunched his nose up and crinkled his eyes at the corners. “Or, I guess I wouldn’t? I don’t know. I don’t really do the whole, uh, dating thing.” It was true, Rhett hadn’t been on a date with anyone since he started crab fishing, so he honestly didn’t know if that was the kind of thing he’d share on a first date or not. He did know that if he ever  _ did  _ go on a date again, he’d have to phrase it differently than he had with Link, leave himself less open to a comment like the one he’d gotten.

“Why not?” Link pressed.

“What?”

“Why don’t you date?” Link cocked his head to one side, studying Rhett. Rhett certainly didn’t strike him as the person who would have to put in a lot of effort to get a date. Sure, he was a little odd, a loner, but he was attractive and seemed strong and stable. At least, stable enough from what Link could see after sharing two meals with the man. Link wondered why Rhett kept to himself so much, why he lived alone in a house that could easily sleep half a dozen people, if Link was seeing it right from the outside. He wondered if Rhett had always been here, or if he’d moved to the island from elsewhere. Link wondered so many things about Rhett, but didn’t think he had right or reason to interrogate Rhett, to ask the questions he wondered about. So instead, he asked the questions that came up in conversation, and that’s why he felt comfortable asking about Rhett’s dating life. Not that it mattered at all to him… he was just curious.

“I don’t know. I… I… don’t think I’m really cut out for the whole being-with-people thing.” Rhett looked down at his plate and stirred his beans and rice again, trying hard to think of a way to change the subject, but failing to come up with something. He didn’t want to talk about his love life, or the lack thereof, the memories he held causing his heart to ache.

“Ruggedly handsome man like you? I bet you’d have to turn people away. Besides, even if you  _ weren’t  _ all that great, you’ve got a gorgeous place with a view like this.” Link gestured toward the glass door in the kitchen that overlooked the bay. “No date could turn this down.” Rhett blushed, taking a bite of his rice and beans.  _ He’s just being nice because you’re feeding him. _

“Yeah, well, I’d ask what your love life is like, but I think we both know the answer to that one,” Rhett jeered, barely able to get the sentence out for laughing. Link tried to glare, but failed and laughed instead.

“What do you mean by that?” Link managed to choke out between laughs, unable to affect the offended tone he was aiming for. “My love life is  _ thriving,  _ thank you very much. Just because I don’t remember how great it is at the moment doesn’t mean it’s not amazing.” Link’s snappy answer only made Rhett laugh harder, which only caused Link’s laughter to escalate until the two of them were clutching their sides. Rhett was pleased at how seamlessly they’d transitioned from small talk, which he hated, to laughter, which seemed effortless and enjoyable. The light ease of the conversation wasn’t lost on him, and it was something he hadn’t experienced in years.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s thriving. Do you make a point of looking like a caveman? That can’t possibly work in your favor!” Rhett glanced down at the facial hair covering Link’s chin. Link winced and stroked his beard.

“I sure hope in my previous life I had the sensibility to actually shave. This beard is  _ nasty _ ,” Link snorted.

“Hey now, what do you have against beards?” Rhett smiled as he scratched at his own beard.

“Nothing. Yours is fine. But like you said, I look like a darn caveman.” Link was being honest-- Rhett’s beard really did suit him well. It matched the crab fisherman rustic vibe he had. But Link’s? It clearly wasn’t his choice. Or at least, he hoped it wasn’t.

“If it bothers you, I can probably find a spare razor somewhere,” Rhett offered quietly. He was sure he had a disposable one somewhere.

“You want me to shave your beard?” Link knew exactly what Rhett meant, but he didn’t want their laughter to stop.

“Oh ho ho,” Rhett chortled, raising his hands. “You touch my beard and we’re gonna have some  _ real  _ problems. But if you want to shave that mess,” Rhett gestured toward Link’s chin,” have at it. I fully support that decision.”

* * *

 

Link took his time shaving after his shower, once again thankful for the generosity and kindness Rhett offered. Letting him shower once again, giving him a razor to use… Rhett had gone out of his way to help Link. But as Link shaved, he felt nervous. This was the first mirror he’d come across since washing up on the beach, and he’d seen it, seen himself, for the first time the day before. He was trying to imagine what he might look like without the beard, and wondered if shaving it off would jog his memory. If he was typically clean shaven, seeing himself that way might remind him. As he finished shaving, rinsed the excess shaving cream from his face, he took a long, deep, shaky breath.

He looked up, stared himself straight in the face in the mirror, and still didn’t have the slightest clue who he was.

But he looked better, felt better, than before he’d shaved. Heck, he was downright handsome, if he could say that about himself, nothing distracting from his sharp jawline or sparkling blue eyes now that the dark hair on his chin was removed from the equation.

He stepped out of the bathroom and headed toward the stairs to thank Rhett, but froze halfway down the steps. Rhett was sitting in his chair reading, his back to Link, unphased like he hadn’t heard him coming. He looked soft and kind in his chair. Standing, the man was downright intimidating, he shoulders strong from hauling crab traps, the thick black ink on his arm formidable. His tall frame and deep voice could make the nerves in Link’s stomach twist in knots in the best ways. But here, in his chair, he was soft and quiet, almost small against the high back. Link stepped closer, down the stairs, and crossed the floor toward Rhett. He wanted to know what Rhett thought of his now clean-shaven face for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint, but wasn’t sure what to say. Rhett seemed to sense the approach, though, Link’s eyes on him, and he turned, placing his book on the side table as he did.

“Holy crap,” Rhett exhaled the words. He stood, his eyes not leaving Link for a second. “You look like a totally different person. Wow.”

“Is that a, uh…” Link shifted back and forth uncomfortable, not sure how to take Rhett’s stare or his words, “is that a compliment?”

“Yeah,” Rhett’s voice was low, more breath than words, more whisper than sound. “It is. You look… you look amazing.” Link felt his face get hot as Rhett said  _ amazing _ , the word shaking him to the core. He bit his lip, unsure of how to respond at first. How had something as minor as a shave made him look so different? Rhett seemed to sense Link’s mental comparison of his before and after, and he followed up his statement. “You looked good before. It’s just… now it’s… you know… wow.”

“Thanks,” Link whispered. He had no idea which one of them moved to close the distance between them first, or how the careful balance between them shifted. In that moment, it didn’t matter that they barely knew each other or that Link didn’t even know himself. What mattered was the unshakeable force, the undeniable attraction that Link felt to Rhett, the cosmic gravity that drew them together. For Rhett, it had been so long, and with Link, things just felt so right, so easy, so comfortable. The comfort between them made the force that tugged them together even more impossible to resist. The two of them were pushing toward each other, toward a limit that didn’t seem to exist in that space, a moment where they’d managed to let their guard down completely.

Wordlessly, Rhett’s arms slid around Link’s waist like they belonged there, and Link’s arms worked their way around Rhett’s shoulders as they tugged each other into a kiss that was forceful, passionate, laced with need and desire that neither of them would have admitted to aloud. Neither of them had spoken the attraction they felt to each other, not seriously. Instead, there was some unspoken  _ knowing _ , the feeling they each had.

Link was clinging to Rhett like his life depended on it, shirt twisted in his hands, unwilling and unable to release him. Rhett didn’t want Link to let go anyway, his lips now peppering kisses along Link’s smooth, shaven jawline, down his neck. Link felt himself collapse into it, stopping Rhett only long enough to push him backward toward the couch, then onto it. He straddled Rhett, working his hands down Rhett’s chest to the hem of his shirt before tugging the shirt over Rhett’s head and onto the floor. Rhett did the same thing with the shirt he’d loaned Link, tossing it next to his own shirt.

Link grazed his fingertips, then his lips and occasionally his teeth down Rhett’s neck, his chest, his stomach. Neither of them said a word, afraid giving a voice to this might snap them both out of it. Instead, they fell into it, letting it happen, and soon Link found himself unbuttoning Rhett’s jeans. Rhett shifted his hips, lifting off of the couch just long enough to give Link the space to remove them.  _ Is this actually happening? God, it’s been so long _ .

Rhett needed this, wanted it, wanted  _ Link _ . He ran his fingers through Link’s hair, his hands tangling as Link worked his mouth along Rhett, felt the movement of Rhett’s hips to work himself deeper, and Link happily gave him what he wanted, what they  _ both  _ wanted. Rhett’s breath became ragged, gasping moans escaping his lips. Link was ravenous, like the couldn’t get enough of Rhett’s body, like he needed him more than anything else, maybe even hair, the touch of human contact drawing him in. He was undeniably attracted to Rhett, and damn if he could resist the feeling of Rhett’s fingers tugging his hair, the push of Rhett’s large hand on the back of his head, his shoulder, silent encouragement to keep going.

Link  _ did  _ keep going, barely coming up for air, and it didn’t take long for him to feel Rhett tense beneath him, for him to hear the raspy growls and whispers of “Oh god, I’m so close…” Link didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, as Rhett finished. He sat at Rhett’s feet, his hands trailing up Rhett’s legs, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t until they both started to move again, until Rhett was pulling Link onto his lap, starting to move their positions so he could reciprocate, that Rhett breathed out “God, Link, that was so good,” and Link froze. He pushed Rhett off of him, suddenly feeling how off this was, how Link wasn’t his actual name, that this wasn’t actually  _ him _ . It hit him hard that he could have a boyfriend back home and this would be so wrong, he might have a whole life, a family, and here he was, doing this with god-knows-who. His stomach sank. Everything before this felt so  _ right _ , every move he and Rhett made together, but now he faced how wrong this really was.

“I… I can’t…” Link was stammering and stuttering as he picked up a shirt from the floor, tugging it over his head. Rhett looked at him, his brows furrowed with confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Rhett asked, studying the concern on Link’s face, the hurt that painted it, the way Link’s eyes filled with tears. He would have given anything to rewind a few minutes, to stop whatever had upset Link before it happened.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I just have to go.” Link started toward the door, now fully dressed, and Rhett reached out to him, gently touching his wrist. He wouldn’t make Link stay, but he could ask him to.

“Go where? You can stay here. We don’t have to… I won’t…” Rhett tried to explain, to reassure Link that they didn’t have to touch or do this again, that he wasn’t here to hurt him or make him feel like he had to leave. In all honesty, Rhett was lonely, and this taste of human contact made him realize how robotic he’d become. It wasn’t only the physical touch he’d missed, but the small moments of intimacy that laced their lunchtime chatter, the small act of sharing a meal with someone or talking about a book they both enjoyed. The thought of Link walking out that door without explanation left him confused and hurt, but Link pulled away, and Rhett dropped it, watching the screen door snap shut behind Link. Link rushed down the steps and as soon as his bare feet hit the ground, he ran. Rhett shut the door, then sank down on the couch he’d been so happily enjoying minutes before, Link all over him and now suddenly gone. He was still naked, emotionally raw, unsure of how things had gone so wrong. What had he done, said to scare Link off? He thought back through their conversation, what had happened, and realized maybe it wasn’t Link after all. Maybe it was his fault for ever letting someone in again in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Wednesday. <3


	6. Downpour

Link’s lungs burned from the exertion of running down the length of the island, miles under his feet without pause. He’d hardly slowed down for a moment since leaving Rhett’s house. He needed to get away, as far away as he could from Rhett, from what he’d done, from the realization that he shouldn’t be doing anything or getting close to anyone when he had no idea who he was or who he might be hurting in the process. The island wasn’t long enough to put as much space as he wanted between them, but he had no other choice. He ran until his feet wouldn’t carry him, thoughts racing through his head.

What if he had something back home and he was shattering it by letting Rhett in? What if he got close to Rhett, then remembered who he was, went back, and hurt Rhett in the process? Either way, it was a recipe for disaster. How had he let things get so out of hand? Who had pushed forward, led them to a collision in the first place? If he was being honest, it was both of them, neither of them resisting at all as they moved forward, clinging to each other in Rhett’s living room, pushing for more.

Link knew that if Rhett hadn’t said his name-- no,  _ not  _ his name, but the word he’d been using since he didn’t have a name right now-- it would have continued, they would have kept going and he’d still be on Rhett’s couch doing god-knows-what. Part of him wanted to be, to stay and wrap himself in that, to find comfort in the certainty of someone else’s touch to make him seem real, worthy, not a lost, hopeless cause. But mostly, he was horrified he’d let himself get so close to a stranger. A small sick part of him thought that for a moment, he’d be keeping the clothes Rhett had given him, and this made them even after all. The other part of him knew that what he’d done with Rhett back for what he’d given him, but about the fact that he wanted Rhett, needed him to some degree or another. His head was cloudy and his hands were shaking as he reached the rocks on the end of the island. There was no space left to run. He placed his hands on his knees as the sun started to set behind him. He could see families playing near the rocks that lined the ocean in front of him, a few stragglers fishing as the sun went down.

He wanted to scream, to let the ocean carry his frustrations and his voice away from him, to let it all out, but he didn’t want to disturb the people enjoying their time nearby, happy families who wanted to enjoy their time together. He wanted to throw himself into the water and let it carry him back to where he’d come from, as if that were even a possibility. He didn’t know what he wanted. Link knew what he didn’t want, though. He didn’t want to ever see Rhett again. But on such a small island, it was an inevitability, and Link knew getting off of the island was the best course of action. For a moment, he wondered just how far he’d make it if he left the island after all.

The dark loomed over him, though, and getting off of the island in the dark seemed nearly impossible. He had no idea where he was going in the daylight, let alone in the darkness. Instead, he waited for everyone playing near the rocks to return to their cars and turn in for the night, waited for the rocks on the East end of the island to become completely empty, save for a couple of lone fisherman that weren’t paying attention. He climbed the tall sloped hill near the imposing fort that presided over this part of the island and found a small corner, closed on three sides, that seemed to shield him from the chill of the ocean wind. He tucked himself against the wall and prayed no one would see him as he leaned there in the darkness.

It was then that Link looked down for the first time since he’d left Rhett’s house and, in the moonlight, he saw that he was wearing Rhett’s shirt. It made his heart ache. Rhett had been so kind and giving, had done so much for him, and he’d repaid him by running at the first sign of a connection. At the same time, with no idea who he was or what he’d left behind, could anyone blame him? Could  _ Rhett  _ blame him? Link cried, pressing his hands to his eyes at first to stop the flow of tears, then letting go, letting them stream down his face in the dark where no one would see. He cried for turning Rhett away, the only person who he’d been able to turn to for help. Then he cried for everything he’d left behind, every piece of information he’d forgotten about himself. He sobbed for what felt like hours, even if it wasn’t, crying until he fell asleep on the ground. He slept restlessly, his body torn between the fatigue of running and crying, and the nightmares he faced where he felt like he was drowning. Metaphorically, it made sense to him. When he was awake, he felt like he was drowning under the weight of the unknown, and as he slept, he just felt like he was drowning.

The fort appeared to be the perfect place for him to seek refuge, no one noticing he was there. The walls were high enough that no one could see him hide against it. The sun came up on the side of the fort in the morning, waking his last attempt at sleep early enough that no one was really out and about yet. He made a mental note that sleeping at the fort was safer than sleeping near the picnic tables, but then remembered his only goal was to get off of the god-forsaken island. He walked, considered leaving and wondered how hard it might be to walk the entire length of the massive bridge that connected the island to the mainland. It had a steep incline and would be exhausting to walk, but he knew it might be worth it. He didn’t have the funds for the ferry, but wondered if he’d be able to sneak on without being noticed. Walking seemed to be the only logical option, though, the only way to not risk getting caught, but his legs were sore from running. Running from Rhett, running from what he’d done, running away from a glimpse at the life he could have if he didn’t remember who he was. He wished desperately to remember what his life was like and shove that thought out of his head.

It hit him then-- if he was missing, if he’d washed up on the island and had a life to return to, someone might be looking for him. They’d have to recognize him. He hadn’t given anyone the opportunity to see him, not outside of the police and Rhett. If he was typically clean shaven, the police may not have even recognized him, so instead of leaving the island, he resolved to see as many people as he could and pray someone would recognize him and help him get home. He took off toward the middle of the island, where the shops, restaurants, and condos were close enough together for there to be plenty of tourists. His hope was anchored on someone knowing who he was and helping him find his way back to himself.

Link noticed a shop with a bright green door, seeing the sign with the name Miguel’s written on it, and he decided to walk in. He didn’t have money, but he wondered if he could ask if they recognized him, if they’d heard anything or seen a flyer or something. But as he approached the door, he found it locked. He turned away, starting to walk through the parking lot again, gravel crunching under his feet, turning only when he heard the door swing open with a creak. He hoped it was the owner or someone who he could talk to, someone who heard him try the door. Instead, it was Rhett.

  
Rhett, carrying a large basket, struggled his way through the door and heaved it onto the truck bed with a thud. The mesh wire attached to the top of the basket caused a strange metallic sound as it scraped the side of the truck bed. Rhett adjusted it carefully, then turned and noticed Link. Their eyes locked for a moment. As soon as Rhett started to walk toward him, Link broke eye contact, turning away and walking. Rhett called after him, but he pretended not to hear. He couldn’t face it, couldn’t face  _ him _ , right now, apologize for how he’d left things. He just didn’t have the words.

* * *

 

Rhett stared at the ceiling again, another night spent sleepless. If Rhett was honest with himself, he hadn’t slept well since he’d met Link, and it had only gotten worse since the day Link returned his book. Why he was so hung up on Link, he didn’t know. Maybe it was just because it had been a long time, and Link was the first person he’d even let into his home despite years of living there. He’d been personally starved for communication and contact, and Link’s touch had felt amazing. It was starting to be too much, to get under his skin.

He’d wake dreaming of it, finding himself aroused and then feeling ashamed for the fact that Link had run off after and made it clear that they weren’t meant to be near each other when he’d ignored Rhett’s calls at Miguel’s. Or he’d wake replaying conversations with Link, angry with himself for letting it get so far, for not shutting it down, for stepping toward Link in the first place. He hadn’t even realized they’d been flirting until it was too late. Then again, maybe they hadn’t actually even been flirting, Rhett second-guessed it so much. It was more like someone had set him on a collision course for the sun and he didn’t realize it was getting hotter until he’d already burnt up in the atmosphere. He wondered how close had been too close before it was deadly close, how much rejection his heart could handle after years of no contact at all. Why did he even care? Link was  _ nothing  _ to him, just someone he’d helped out once or twice, that’s all it was. But when Link had seen him, pretended not to notice and turned away without a word? Rhett’s gut told him it  _ was  _ something. He wondered if he wasn’t just better off alone.

Rhett tossed and turned, his hand finding his way down more than once, under the sheets and grazing himself, then stroking and thinking about Link and how good it felt, imagining his lips and tongue and those big blue eyes. After he came, he felt guilt, shame. He shifted to the other side of the bed, trying not to feel the remnants of what he’d done. His mind wandered to where Link was, if he was safe at all, then he silently cursed himself, then Link, for how he’d bummed meals off of Rhett, let Rhett give him rest and showers, clothes and books, and now repaid him in silence.  _ That’s not true. He gave you a blowjob, too _ . Rhett realized how warped the thought was, then wondered if there wasn’t some truth to it, if the only reason Link had done it was out of some sick sense of repayment, like Rhett might think it would be fair after that. And it wasn’t why Rhett had given him things-- he didn’t  _ want  _ to be repaid. He wanted to help. He wondered if Link had done it out of pity-- look at this lonely man and his lonely life-- and felt sick to his stomach. As Rhett raced to the bathroom, dry heaved at the anxiety gripping him, something stirred in him to tell him he had it all wrong, that there had been legitimate laughter between them, a true connection somewhere in there. Rhett hated himself for caring. Link was a stranger, potentially a con artist-- Rhett hadn’t ruled it out-- and getting involved with someone who didn’t know who they were screamed  _ bad idea _ .

In spite of that, Rhett couldn’t go back to sleep or get Link out of his head. Eventually he walked downstairs to see his copy of  _ Kafka on the Shore  _ sitting next to the couch. How he hadn’t noticed it a day or two before, he had no idea. Link had forgotten it in his mad dash to leave, and Rhett reached to re-shelve it, but instead picked it up and started to read.

Rhett tried his hardest to keep to a routine in the days that followed, despite the sleepless nights where he tossed and turned. He convinced himself that the sleeplessness couldn’t be about Link, but instead had to do with not getting enough exercise or not keeping himself busy enough. After his work in the morning, too often he settled in with a book and didn’t do anything productive. 

He shut his intrusive thoughts down with afternoon runs on the beach instead, refusing to face his feelings. It had been a long time, far too long, since he’d ventured to the public beaches. He typically stayed on the bay side, trying to avoid the tourists that lined the beach, but he needed to feel the ocean air burn in his lungs, and he needed to feel the coarse sand under his feet, the way it burned in his calves as he pushed through it. He longed for the adrenaline and the euphoria running could bring him.

The heat of the day wasn’t conducive to running, but he refused to wake up any earlier than he already did to check the traps for a morning run. So, he ran while it was hot, sweat soaking through his tank tops and dripping off of his skin as he ran as far as he could. His distance was unimpressive the first day, and then the second. He kept it short and sweet, knowing it was far too hot to press on.

Any exercise was better than nothing, though, and his body was exhausted from the effort. He’d started sleeping better. On the third day, he made it well past the distance he’d gone the first two days, the heat fading into a cool breeze until he saw the flashes of lighting in the distance. He turned back, even though he knew there was a chance the storm may never reach the island. Often, they spiraled out before ever getting close enough, but if the storm approached, the last place he wanted to be was on the beach.

The rain hit in full force, coming down in sheets as the sky flashed when his truck came into view. The rain was cool, washing him of the sweat from his run, the temperature still dropping as he climbed into the cab of his truck. He left the windows open partway, listening to the roar of thunder as he parked underneath the house. When he got inside, he opened the windows at home, letting the breeze in so he could listen to the sound of the rain patter against the wooden deck as he changed into dry clothes and made himself some tea.

As he filled his cup, he thought he heard something, the knock having a different pitch and tone than the rumbles of thunder that shook the house to the core. When the knock came again, he was certain it wasn’t the storm. He opened the door to see Link standing there, shivering and rain-soaked, obviously tired if the bags under his eyes were any indication, his arms wrapped tightly around himself to keep the cold rain from soaking him to the bone.

“I know you probably hate me and I swear I’ll leave as soon as the storm is over, but can I please ride it out under your house? I’ll leave you alone and you won’t even know I’m there. Please, I have nowhere else to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Saturday, loves! Have a question/prediction/just want to flail at me over what's happened/is happening next? Don't be afraid to comment below or MESSAGE ME! I love talking to y'all over on tumblr. I've had a few people concerned they'd bug me if they reached out so I just want to say DO IT! (If you wanna). I love it.


	7. Like Hell

“Like hell you’ll wait it out under my house,” Rhett said. Link flinched at the words before Rhett finished. “The wind whips rain around down there. It’s gonna beat the crap out of you. You can wait up here.” Rhett nodded toward the living room, stepping aside to let Link in.

Link stood in the doorway, lingering on the offer, wondering if he could accept, if he  _ should  _ accept after how he’d left things so suddenly, how things had gone the last time he’d been in Rhett’s house. Rhett opened the door further and took a large step back, giving Link the distance to enter without the two of them so much as coming with in a foot of each other.

“You’re letting the rain in.” Rhett was giving a silent ultimatum-- come in, or don’t, but don’t let the rain keep slanting in, hammering down on the wood floor just past the threshold. Link took a step inside with a deep breath, then closed the door behind himself. He lingered near the door, though, not sure if the invitation in meant an invitation fully in. Rhett looked at him, wondering if, even if the storm took hours to pass, he’d wait the entire thing out right inside the door, still like a statue.

Rhett furrowed his brow and returned to the kitchen, picking up his mug and heading toward the stairs with it.

“I’m going to get you some dry clothes, and while I do, you’re welcome to pour yourself some tea. Mugs are in the cabinet at the far left, at the top.” As Rhett climbed the stairs, Link took a hesitant step forward. He’d already taken so much from Rhett before vowing never to see him again. He’d even started to leave the island to avoid him, starting up the bridge and getting part of the way across before the storm rolled in. He worried about reaching the high point of the bridge in the middle of a thunderstorm, making himself a human lightning rod as the highest point in an expanse of water, and the wind was rough, shaking him. If he got thrown off, he’d fall way too far into water to survive it. He forced himself to turn around. The water had soaked him, chilling him as the gulf air dropped fifteen degrees or better with the storm. He considered seeking refuge against the fort, but found his feet taking him the opposite direction, toward Rhett’s house, toward the person he knew would take him in in spite of how he’d acted. He didn’t know why he knew Rhett would let him enter. He just  _ knew _ .

And Rhett did welcome him, without a word of what happened, how Link ignored him. He just offered up dry clothes and hot tea, which Link decided to take him up on after a breeze blew through the open window and caused him to shudder. As Link poured the tea, Rhett placed the clothes on the kitchen counter beside him.

“There’s a bathroom over there if you want to change. I’d offer a shower, but with the storm, you might wait. Lightning and all that…” Rhett allowed himself to trail off, and Link nodded.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Rhett sat down in his chair and waved his hand dismissively. Link changed clothes, bringing his wet clothes out of the bathroom with him.  _ Rhett’s _ wet clothes, he corrected himself.

“Where do you want me to, uh, put these? They’re yours.” Link felt dumb for saying it.  _ Of course he knows they’re his. _

“I’ll take them,” Rhett said, placing them in a laundry basket in a corner under the stairs, one that looked full, like it was ready to be washed. “Carried that downstairs to do laundry but the storm came up.” Link had forgotten the laundry room was under the house, in the space where he refused to let Link ride out the storm because of how the wind whipped around. The laundry room, shower, and something else, storage maybe, were all enclosed, but getting down there in the rain was likely to be a problem. Link stood in the kitchen, drinking his tea. Several minutes passed before Rhett spoke again. “You know you can sit down, right?”

Link didn’t know, didn’t want to impose after everything, but at Rhett’s offer, he did. He sat on the edge of the couch with his tea, fidgeting. His butt was barely on the edge of the seat. If there was a sudden jolt, he’d fall of in an instant. He tried hard to be quiet, to wait out the storm without disturbing Rhett, just sipping his tea quietly. Rhett continued to turn the pages of the book he was reading, and Link picked at his cuticles. He didn’t see Rhett stealing glances at him over his book, watching him sit awkwardly, shuffling on the couch so much had happened on, biting his nails. Eventually, it was too much for Rhett, seeing how uncomfortable Link was.

He picked up  _ Kafka on the Shore,  _ the one Link had forgotten in his mad dash out of there, and placed it on the floor. He gave it a shove, watching it slide across the wooden floor and landed solidly against Link’s foot. Ordinarily, Rhett would never treat his book so carelessly, but he was worried that if he crossed the room, Link would startle, bolt out the door and into the storm. He was afraid to speak, afraid he’d spook him, like Link was a nervous deer instead of a grown man. So he risked damage to one of his favorite books in an effort to keep Link comfortable, let it slide and drag across the floor, and watched Link jump as it hit his toe. He reached down for it, picking it up to read without a word.

Link let himself shift backward in the seat slightly, made himself a little more comfortable. He tried hard not to think about what they’d started the last time he was on the couch, instead focusing on the words in the book. For well over an hour, they sat in silence, each turning the pages of their respective books as the rain poured outside, the curtains blowing in the breeze. Rhett stood occasionally, refilling his mug and stepping toward Link to grab his mug and refill it, too, placing the discarded tea bags in the trash. Link nodded a thank you each time, neither of them speaking, neither of them breaking the silence between them, the one barrier that ensured they wouldn’t talk about  _ it _ .

It was a delicate dance at times, one that threatened to become too much for either one of them. Link longed to ask Rhett about various quotes he’d underlined in the book, and Rhett wanted desperately to say something, anything, that would tell Link it was okay, that things were messed up and he  _ knew  _ that.

Instead, though, both of them continued their silence as the storm raged on, and eventually Rhett placed his book on the table beside him and stood, walking to the kitchen. He pulled a pot down from a cabinet, filling it with water and preparing rice. In another pot, he placed beans, making plenty for both of them without asking if Link planned to stay. It was a given, and if he was wrong,then he had extra. He stirred the rice occasionally, not bothering to return to his chair.

As it finished, he filled two plates, setting the plate and a glass of water at Link’s seat at the table, then sitting down in his own chair without a word. Link got the hint and walked over, the chair scraping softly on the floor as he sat down and began to mix the rice and beans Rhett had given him.

“Thank you,” he finally said quietly. If the rain had been pouring any harder, if a clap of thunder had decided to let loose at that chosen moment, Rhett would have missed the thanks. It was barely above a whisper. Rhett let out a soft hum in response, then took another bite, the two eating silently. It was a far cry from the laughter they’d shared at their last meal together, and Rhett felt a shiver up his spine. He didn’t know if it was the cool chill from the rain or the way Link had barely spoken, but he didn’t like it.

Link took the last few bites of his meal as the rain stopped. The sky looked like it was starting to clear just in time for a magnificent red sunset. Link stood and picked up his plate, walking to the sink to rinse it like he’d seen Rhett do after meals they’d shared before.

“The ground is going to be soaked. You know that, right?” Rhett asked.

“Hmm?”

“The ground. It rained for hours. It won’t have time to dry out for you to sleep.”

“Oh. Thanks. I’ll, uh… I’ll find somewhere to sleep that isn’t the ground, then.” Link didn’t understand why Rhett felt the need to explain how rain worked. Obviously the ground would be wet after rain. That was common sense.

“You can crash on the couch.” There it was, everything that needed to be said in six little words, the offer out there for Link to accept or decline. For a moment, Link considered declining, thanking Rhett for the continued kindness before walking straight out the door into the damp night. But before his head could say no, he found himself saying yes instead, his mouth forming words his brain hadn’t given them approval to say.

“Thank you. I’d… I’d appreciate that,” Link said. Rhett responded to Link’s acceptance with a small nod.

“I’m going to watch the sunset. You coming?” Rhett walked out the back door without waiting for Link to answer. Link followed silently, leaning against the railing several feet away from Rhett on the side of the house, the wraparound deck providing the most incredible view of the bright orange and red the storm had produced, but also giving them plenty of space apart to enjoy it in silence, make it clear this wasn’t a romantic viewing together, but instead an enjoyment of what nature had to offer in separate spaces.

Neither of them spoke, watching the sun go down, dip below the horizon until the stars sparkled overhead. Without a word, still not sure how to say something to Link without upsetting the silent balance between them. Link followed behind and watched Rhett settle into his chair, picking up his book and switching a light on beside him. Link picked up the book he’d been reading, as well, and they stayed in their silence until Rhett stood and left the room. He returned with blankets and a pillow, dropping them on the end of the couch opposite Link unceremoniously.

“Do you want the light on or off?” It was clear Rhett was going to bed, and Link looked at him. He was only a few chapters from the end of the book, and he was torn between pure exhaustion and finishing it. But his eyes were starting to slip close, to give up the fight he was waging with himself. He hadn’t had good sleep in days, sleeping next to the fort on the hard ground.

“I think I might sleep,” Link said. Rhett clicked the light off. As Link’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw Rhett halfway up the stairs already. “Rhett?” His shape paused in the darkness. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.”  _ Really,  _ Rhett thought,  _ don’t mention it. Because I cannot handle answering you, knowing you’re on that couch and we aren’t talking this out, fixing what we broke by pushing too close. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Wednesday, lovelies. <3


	8. Head First

Link curled under the blankets, his eyes heavy. He was warm, the breeze coming in through the windows, but the blankets thick enough to keep him cozy. The pillow was soft, far softer than the brick of the fort he’d rested his head on before. The couch itself wasn’t comfortable, the cushions flattening and shifting under him, but the fact that it wasn’t a picnic table or the hard ground made it feel like clouds by comparison. Link tried not to think about the tension and awkward silences between he and Rhett, thankful that as long as they’d been reading, it had helped it seem less awkward. He was determined, thoughts aside, to get one good night of sleep. He convinced himself that he’d say goodbye the next day, thank Rhett one last time, and find his way off of the island like he’d planned to before the storm hit, but for now, he was going to sleep.

He didn’t realize he’d been screaming until the light flicked on in the living room a few hours later.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Rhett blinked, his eyes trying to get used to the brightness after navigating quickly downstairs in the dark when he’d heard the screams. As soon as he saw that it was just Link, that he wasn’t being robbed or anything, he rested the baseball bat he’d carried with him downstairs against the wall. He’d taken the steps two at a time to make sure everything was alright, and despite the fact that they weren’t in imminent danger, it was clear they weren’t. Link was visibly shaking, his skin shining with sweat as he sat up. He tried to steady himself, but it appeared his rapid, ragged, panicked breath was making him a little light-headed as he sank against the couch. His eyes were full of fear, wide and dark.

“I… I’m so sorry,” Link panted between breaths. He looked at Rhett apologetically. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I think… I think I was just dreaming.”

Rhett could see the terror the man still couldn’t shake, even in the dim light the side table lamp gave off. He didn’t know whether to ask what had set Link off, what had him so panicked, or to drop it and move on.

“You didn’t,” Rhett lied. “I wake up early for work, remember?” Rhett didn’t have to look at a clock to know he was up at least an hour before he’d usually wake to check his traps, but he wasn’t about to let on that Link had woken him. Rhett suppressed a yawn. “If you want to get more sleep, I can go back to my room for awhile before I get started. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t like… dead or something?” Rhett’s voice tilted pitch to form a question, not a statement. Was Link okay? Did he want Rhett to stay or go?

“No,” Link pushed the blanket off of himself and placed it beside him. “I think I’m awake now. If you’re down here, you won’t be bothering me.” Rhett started the coffee pot and waited for the first cup to trickle out, pouring it and offering it to Link. He selfishly wanted the first cup for himself, barely keeping his eyes open. He didn’t want to wait for the second cup to brew before drinking some, but the dark circles under Link’s eyes and the way he was still making a large effort to calm down his panicked breaths made it clear that he needed it more than Rhett did.

Link accepted the coffee and took a large gulp, then winced as he was reminded how strongly Rhett tended to brew it. He wasn’t complaining, though. He was tired, still shaking enough to cause ripples in the coffee he held in his hands. Having something to hold onto made him feel better. Rhett leaned against the counter to study Link’s face, trying to see if he looked okay, if he felt okay after his dream. After each sip Link took of his coffee, Rhett watched him force himself to take a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the extreme effort he put in to calm himself down. Before Link finished his cup of coffee, he appeared to visibly relax, not completely, but enough that Rhett could stop worrying so much.

“More?” Rhett offered, holding the carafe toward Link. Link lifted his mug and Rhett refilled it, then poured himself a second cup. As Link took a sip, he wondered how much the strong, bitter flavor was worth the caffeine hit he was seeking, but he didn’t stop drinking it, if only to focus on something other than his thoughts. He could feel Rhett’s eyes on him, and he wondered when-- if-- Rhett was going to bring up the fact that he’d left, then ignored him, then came back like a wounded puppy, only to wake him with screams after he’d let Link in. Rhett could try to lie, but Link could tell by his body language that he was awake before he was used to, his eyes blinking rapidly trying to wake himself.

Link opened his mouth to say something, to thank Rhett and say he would leave after he finished this cup of coffee, get out of Rhett’s way, but before he could, Rhett spoke.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Despite everything Rhett had done, how wishy-washy he’d been, Rhett sounded understanding and calm. He knew Rhett was asking about the dreams, but he didn’t want to talk about that. Instead, he wanted to explain.

“I’m sorry,” Link started. “I shouldn’t have left without an explanation. I know that I started it, that I could have stopped it, and… and… I  _ wanted  _ it to happen. But,” a single tear slid down Link’s cheek before he could catch it, “when you said ‘Link,’ I… I freaked out. And… and…” He choked on tears and couldn’t finish, trying to swallow them down and take a breath so he could finish.

“Oh my god,” Rhett whispered. He reached his hand toward Link’s, resting his fingertips just barely on Link’s fingers. “You didn’t have to explain. I… I meant with the nightmare, if… if you wanted to talk about your dream or something. I didn’t mean you had to… oh gosh.” Rhett felt badly for making Link think  _ this  _ was about  _ that _ . “We both initiated it. For the record. You can’t blame yourself for something we  _ both  _ did.”

Link carefully slid his fingers out from under Rhett’s. He longed to leave them there, to let Rhett know things were okay, but he couldn’t trust himself with the touch, the contact, with Rhett being so close. He placed his mug, still half-full, on the counter.

“I think I should go.”

“I think you should stay. At least until you figure out who you are, or find someplace safe to go, I think you should stay.” Rhett raised his hands, making it clear he wasn’t trying to start anything. “I won’t try anything. If you want to go, you can, but the couch is there if you need it. And if you decide to leave and need to come back, the couch will still be here.  _ I  _ will still be here.”

Link bit his lip, considering the offer.

“I can’t pay you back for everything as it is. Taking more from you, sleeping on your couch, I know you’d feel like you needed to feed me or whatever… I kind of feel like a dick, you know?”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Rhett sighed and placed his mug next to Link’s, then opened the door to the back deck. He turned the lights on and turned back to Link. “It’s your choice, though. Just uh, Link?”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re gonna leave, maybe tell me this time?” Rhett didn’t wait to hear Link’s response, instead walking out the back door. Link didn’t answer, just followed behind like a baby duckling, as if Rhett had invited him to join.

Rhett gathered his bushel baskets, taking the burlap that sat carefully folded inside of each one and dunking it into the water, then lining the baskets with it. He pulled his gloves on, reaching into the water to heave the first trap up, tugging it out of the water with precision before Link’s eyes without hesitation or faltering at all. He reached inside, taking the crabs out and carefully laying them in the basket, the crab trap beside him. He was in the process of repeating this with a second crab trap when Link cleared his throat.

“Can I help?”

“Unless you had a crab fishing license tucked into your wetsuit, no,” Rhett answered. “I’m assuming you don’t have an ID, so you can’t  _ get  _ a license, either,” he huffed the words, his voice strained as he hauled the crab trap up. It felt fuller than usual, heavier. He lifted it and set it on the dock carefully, filling the rest of the basket, then setting it aside to fill the next one. “Actually, you know what?” Rhett looked up at Link in the dock lighting. “Go grab the ice packs out of the freezer and put them on the crabs in that basket.” Rhett gestured toward the first basket, a loose wave of the arm before he turned his back to Link again.

Link disappeared into the house as Rhett started work on the third crab trap, heaving it up and releasing the crabs from the metal trap they’d been held in. Link brought the ice packs out in his arms, carefully placing the first two on the crabs carefully.

“Like this?” Link asked.

“Yeah, real ginger with it, though. They’re fragi--” Before Rhett could get the words out, one of the ice packs slipped from Link’s arm, landing with a  _ crack _ as it hit a crab in the basket. Rhett rushed over, his trap temporarily forgotten as he assessed the damage. “Shit! You have to be careful!” he snapped, lifting two crabs out of the basket, both with cracked shells. They didn’t look salvageable. “I can’t sell these now! They’re useless,  _ and  _ you hurt them. Go inside and boil them. You’re not letting them go to waste.”

“You’re worried that I hurt them, but you want me to go boil them alive?” Link arched an eyebrow. How could Rhett be so angry the shells were broken, angry they were hurt, right before cooking them?

“They won’t survive if we throw them back, not with their shells cracked that badly, and I can’t sell them if they’re broken like that. We have to boil them now, before they die, or the meat will go bad and have an awful texture. It’s the humane thing to do, Link, just  _ go _ !” Rhett didn’t have time to talk about this right now, knowing they were wasting precious time with the two crabs as it was. Link carefully gripped the crabs the same way Rhett had, holding them from the back. He wondered how he’d find a pot with his hands full with the two crabs, and resorted to using his elbows, chin, and finally his mouth to open a cabinet door. Luckily, he found a pot in the first cabinet he’d looked in, because he wasn’t sure he could repeat the process a second or third time.

It suddenly hit him that the first hurdle was managed-- finding a pot-- but getting it down and putting the crabs inside without letting go of them was another story. He turned in the kitchen, trying to find a basket or something,  _ anything _ , to put the crabs in so he could grab the pot they needed to go in. It was then that he realized the sink was empty, open, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of that before he’d used his mouth to open the cabinet door like an idiot. He placed the crabs in the sink carefully, hearing the soft click of their legs on the metal. He slipped them into the pot as soon as he placed it on the counter, then filled it with water and turned the stove on. He had no idea how long he was supposed to boil the crabs for, or what to do with them when they were done.

Rhett huffed his way inside, glaring at Link as he retrieved more ice packs from the freezer.

“Where are the crabs?”

“In the pot,” Link gestured.

“You put them in before it boiled?” Rhett’s eyes were wide and he let the ice packs fall to the floor as he slammed the freezer door closed. “You can’t… you have to wait for the water to boil first!” Rhett plunged his hands into the already-hot water, scooping the crabs out and placing them back in the sink. “How could you not know that?”

“You told me to boil them, and that’s what I’m doing,” Link shot back defensively. Rhett nudged him aside with an elbow, reaching into the cabinet for salt and Old Bay seasoning, adding both generously.

“When it boils, put them in headfirst. Cover the pan and leave them in for 15 minutes exactly, then turn off the heat and drain them. Get me as soon as you’ve done that if I’m not back inside.” Rhett spoke quickly, and Link struggled to keep up. “Don’t screw it up, though. That’s like 25 dollars worth of meat, man.”

Link nodded and stood near the stove, watching the pot for any signs of boiling. The crabs weren’t clicking in the sink anymore, and Link wondered if he’d already screwed up, if he’d killed them, when he heard a soft tap again and sighed with relief. How was he supposed to know how to cook a crab? He couldn’t recall ever even having crab, let alone cooking it. As he saw the bubbles start to form, he thought about Rhett heaving the traps up one by one, pulling them and setting them on the dock. He wondered how Rhett had gotten started in the business, but more than that he wondered what the traps weighed. They had to be heavy, and it had to be really hard work to get them. Link sighed in frustration, angry with himself. The one way he could help, he’d thoroughly screwed up, wasting crabs that Rhett planned to sell by destroying them. He couldn’t blame Rhett for being angry. The bubbles broke on the surface of the water, a rolling boil now, and Link reached for the crabs carefully.

“Sorry, guys,” he whispered, lowering them headfirst into the water. He placed the lid on top and tried not to think about the crabs inside, boiling. He checked the clock on the stove and mentally calculated 15 minutes, then watched the time. 

He didn’t know what else to do with himself. Rhett hadn’t given him any other instructions, and he felt that if he left the crabs for even a minute, he risked messing them up, which is exactly what Rhett had warned him against. He counted tiles along the backsplash once, then a second time, sneaking peeks at the clock and waiting a few more minutes. He carefully drained the water and called for Rhett out the open back door. The sun hadn’t even started to rise yet.

Rhett walked inside, studying the crab and nodding before carefully prying them open.

“Grab a couple of plates, will you?” He insisted and Link obliged, getting two plates from the cabinet he’d seen Rhett take them from the day before and placing them beside Rhett. Rhett slipped a crab on each plate, then removed leftover rice from the refrigerator and heated it up.

“I’m sorry for breaking them.”

“It’s okay. Looks like we’ll just have a very expensive breakfast today,” Rhett’s voice wasn’t as angry as it was before, but it carried a twinge of annoyance, making it clear that he couldn’t afford mistakes like this.

As he sat down at the table, Link settled into the seat that had now become  _ his  _ after a few meals spent there. He didn’t need the invitation to sit, instead doing it without question because he knew Rhett would insist.

“I’d forgotten how crab tasted, you know?” Rhett started, using his fingers to pull a small piece of meat from the crab.

“You don’t eat it?” Link was surprised. A man who caught crabs for a living, but didn’t eat crab? It seemed ridiculous.

“I can’t afford to eat crab, are you kidding?” Rhett took a bite of rice.

“But you catch it. It’s basically free meat, right?” Link furrowed his brow.

“You’re joking, right? Free? Anything I eat, I can’t sell, and anything I can’t sell isn’t going to keep me fed in the winter time when there aren’t any crabs to sell. These are money, Link. You can’t waste them, eat them, when there are tourists who can buy them.” Rhett continued to eat, picking out every bit of meat he could from the shell, scraping at any place he could find a remaining bite of it. The meat did taste good, he had to admit that. Of course he wanted to eat crab, but eating crab meant eating profits, and he couldn’t justify it, unless it was an emergency.

Link nodded carefully, shrinking into himself as he took a bite of rice. He looked weak and sad, like he’d been kicked. Rhett felt a pang of guilt in his gut, knowing he’d hurt Link by how he’d spoken to him.

“Look, it’s okay. I’ve done it before, more than once. We learn from it, yeah?” Rhett ducked his head, trying to meet Link’s gaze, trying to make Link look at him. When Link did, he continued. “Next time just bring a few packs at a time, or grab the cooler from the corner to carry them. Then you won’t drop them, okay?”

Link promised he’d be more careful next time, thankful that Rhett’s tone was soft now, that he didn’t seem as angry.

“So what do we do now? With the crabs, I mean? I saw you… I saw you carrying a basket out of that place.” There it was, the admission that they both knew already-- Link  _ had  _ seen Rhett. There was no denying it. Rhett tensed, remembering.

“Miguel’s.”

“Yeah, Miguel’s. Are we going to sell them there?” Link picked up his plate, rinsing it while keeping his eyes on Rhett the whole time.

“ _ We  _ aren’t doing anything. You can stay here and read or take a nap, whatever, shower if you want. I’m going to go bait my traps and sell the crabs, drop some bill payments off.” Rhett went back outside as the sun rose in the east over the bridge. Link followed him out the door.

“I promise I’ll be more helpful. Please let me help you?”

“I’ll take care of it. Really.” The last thing Rhett wanted to do was explain who Link was to the people he sold crabs to.  _ My associate? Co-worker? Some dude crashing at my place who doesn’t know who he is? _ Rhett wasn’t messing with it, not with how badly today was going. He dropped the fishing line into the water so he could catch the bait he needed for the traps, and eventually, Link walked back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, Washed Up updates have moved to every Wednesday for Washed Up Wednesdays! I will see you in one week! Want Spoilers? Check out my [Tumblr](http://linkslipssinkships.tumblr.com) for a small snippet of the next chapter every Saturday.


	9. Help

There was one thing Link was sure of. He was absolutely not going to sleep on the couch while Rhett worked his butt off, not after he’d woken Rhett. Instead, he peeked inside of the closet just off of the kitchen in search of cleaning supplies. If he couldn’t help Rhett outside of the house, he’d help inside of it. Eventually he found what he was looking for under the sink after checking a few closests. He washed the dishes from breakfast, then washed and tidied the countertops.  He opened the fridge, finding it mostly sparse, void of almost anything but condiments, but he did find one container near the back, moldy and gross. Link wasn’t about to leave it, instead tossing it into the trash beside him.

He moved onto the bathroom after that, finding fresh supplies under the sink, most of them unopened and dusty. He scrubbed the toilets, then worked on the showers both inside and outside of the house. Hunched over the sink in the outside bathroom, Link was polishing it when he heard Rhett’s truck pull in. He stepped out of the bathroom, sponge still in his rubber-gloved hand.

“What the heck are you doing?” Rhett looked from the sponge to Link’s face, then back to the sponge.

“Cleaning,” Link shrugged. “I figured if I couldn’t help with the crabs, I’d do what I could to help.”

Rhett wanted to say Link shouldn’t do it, and in a way, he felt like his privacy had been invaded or that Link didn’t feel he was doing a good enough job of taking care of the house. If he was honest, he wasn’t doing a good job. Link was the first person he’d let inside of the home at all, even after years of living there, so what did it matter how it looked inside? It wasn’t trashed or unlivable by any means. Rhett just didn’t like wasting time dusting and mopping when he could spend his time doing something else, like reading. Link was just being nice, trying his hardest to make up for the crabs he’d ruined.

“Uh… thanks?” Rhett forced a smile. He looked tired, his shoulders hunched and his eyes squinting. Even though Rhett had insisted Link didn’t wake him up that morning, it was once again clear he had. “I’m going to go take a nap.”

Link nodded and returned to scrubbing the sink until it was clean, probably cleaner than it had been since Rhett bought the home. He went upstairs and laid down on the couch. Rhett was nowhere to be seen, and Link imagined he was upstairs in his room, likely sound asleep judging by the fact that no sound came from upstairs, not a single creak or movement. Tired from the lack of sleep and the hectic morning, Link was snoring before he’d even managed to pull the blanket over himself.

Rhett found him like that an hour and a half later, his body folded into a position that couldn’t be comfortable. Rhett would have offered a bed to Link if he’d owned one, but truth be told, he hadn’t bothered to furnish the two remaining rooms. They’d been completely empty the entire time he’d lived there, bare walls with closed doors. Often, he forgot the rooms were even there, living a life of routine as he moved from the bedroom to the living room, the living room to the kitchen, the kitchen to the back dock, and repeating the process. Besides, furnishing empty rooms cost money, money he didn’t need to spend for no one to use it. Still now, seeing Link uncomfortable, a part of Rhett wished he’d made it a priority.

Link jolted awake, this time without a scream. The look on his face, though, told Rhett everything he needed to know. Whatever dream Link had wasn’t a good one. Rhett tried his hardest to look like he was fully engrossed in the book he was reading rather than watching Link sleep, thinking about whether or not he could afford to make it through winter if he found a way to buy a cheap bed for Link next time he went to town, then wondering why he’d bother to buy a bed for Link when he could leave any day, remember who he was and walk out, or even leave without knowing who he was just because he’d done it before.

Link sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around at where he was and trying to figure out what time it was, how long he’d been asleep. He saw Rhett sitting in his chair and reading, then realized he hadn’t heard Rhett come down from the nap he’d taken himself.

“Good sleep?” Rhett asked, peering over the top edge of his book.

“Uh, yeah. It was… it was great.” Link didn’t want to talk about the nightmares that plagued him, wondered if the nightmares were a part of what had happened to him. He couldn’t help but think maybe the people in his dreams were people he’d once known, but no one came into view, not fully, the other people hazy, fuzzy like he wasn’t allowed to see them. He had a lot of dreams about water, about drowning, but he couldn’t place locations or people, names or faces, any landmarks at all. Link realized the dreams may have nothing to do with the past he couldn’t recall at all, instead just ways of his subconscious deciding to mock him.

“Good.” Rhett didn’t want to push if Link didn’t want to share, so he returned to his book and turned the page. Link realized he hadn’t yet finished  _ Kafka on the Shore _ , so he plucked it from the side table he’d left it on, reading the last of it. He stood and walked to Rhett, placing it on the table without a word as Rhett continued to look at his book. Aside from the incident with the crabs that morning, the way Rhett’s fingers had grazed his own after his nightmare in the earliest hours of the day, it was the closest they’d gotten to each other since the day they’d collided, gone down a path they shouldn’t, when Link had run.

When the crabs earlier had been the central focus of them being in the same space, there hadn’t been a spark or sense of nervousness, instead a feeling of guilt and frustration that he’d messed up by breaking the shells. But now? He wanted to reach out and touch Rhett’s hand for no reason, to be near him. He shut the idea down, trying to convince himself to think of something, anything but that.

“You can get another book if you’d like. They’re all good.” Rhett refused to look at Link. He was terrified that if he did, if he let himself steal a small glance while he was so close, Rhett might haul himself out of the chair, pin Link to the couch, and make up for every bad dream Link was having. But the last time they’d touched like  _ that _ , things had gone so horribly wrong. Rhett stuffed the thoughts down, focused on his book, and kept his eyes to the printed page.

“Which ones have you read?” Link scanned the shelves, looking for any title or spine that stood out.

“All of them.”

“All of them?” Link turned to Rhett, his mouth open a bit in awe. There were hundreds of books on the shelves. Rhett didn’t look up from his book, and Link took a moment to look at Rhett, really look at him. He saw the way Rhett’s hair framed his face when it was down, when he didn’t take the time to do anything with it, and the way Rhett bit his lip as he turned the page of his book. Finally he glanced up at Link, and Link turned away, trying to hide the fact that he’d been studying Rhett so closely.

“Anything on those shelves, I’ve read. Some of them several times. Anything I haven’t read is right here,” he gestured to his side table, which featured a shelf underneath that was stuffed to the gills with books waiting to be lingered over, wrestled with, devoured. “I mean, I’ve read more than that. Those are just my favorites.”

“You can’t possibly have 500, 600 favorites.” Link’s eyes widened at the thought that the sheer number of books in front of him were ones that Rhett deemed favorites, worth keeping and savoring again.

“Anything I love goes on that shelf. Anything that’s only okay, I take to the local lending library. It’s open to anyone-- vacationers, locals-- to stop in and pick up a book to read. If I don’t think I’ll read it again, it’s not worth keeping, but maybe someone else’ll get something out of it.” It was the one way Rhett could give back to the island he lived on without having to interact with anyone. He simply dropped them off and left.

Link reached for a book on the shelf, one that was nondescript, a simple brown cover with no title.

“That’s not a good one.” Rhett said, eyeing the book Link pulled. He stood from his chair and took the book from Link’s hands before Link could open it, then walked back to his seat and placed the book on the side table. It was clear to Link that the book was off-limits, something private and personal, and Link wondered what it contained. He didn’t question it, though.

“I’ll find something else.” Link picked a different book, one with tattered corners that had clearly been read several times. He held it up, let Rhett see it. “This one any good?” Rhett gave an approving nod and told Link it was one of his favorites. “Do you mind if I take it outside? I mean, to the deck?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Rhett replied. He stood from his chair and walked outside, Link following close behind. Rhett didn’t have any deck furniture, save for what was on his own personal balcony off of his bedroom. His outdoor furnishings were as bare as his indoor ones. Instead, Rhett sat down near the edge of the deck, leaning his chest against the lower railing. His legs danged down off of the deck, toward the area under the house, and his arms rested on the railing in front of him. He opened his book and Link followed suit several feet away, giving them space to not touch, not get too close. The two of them sat like that, reading until the sun began to set. It was purple, and the sun created small puffs of pink out of the clouds that dotted the sky. Rhett studied the sunset until it was nearly gone, then turned to Link and broke the silence they’d sat in. “You hungry?”

* * *

 

Link couldn’t imagine that anything in the world could taste better than the tamales in front of him. They were perfect, somehow crisp like they’d just been fresh made after Rhett heated them directly on the stovetop. The rice and beans were as delicious as always, but the tamales were like something from another world.

“You got these while you were out today?” It was a stupid question-- Link had cleaned out the refrigerator earlier, and Rhett had worked, come home, and read, so he didn’t exactly hand-make them.

“Got ‘em from Miguel’s when I was selling crabs.” Rhett took a bite of rice. “They make them fresh, and sometimes they’ll throw them in for a little discount.” Rhett devoured his second tamale as Link ate his own meal. They were talking again, at least a little bit. Both of them were tiptoeing around each other, trying to strike the fine balance of communicating without pushing too far, and the small talk was driving Rhett crazy.

“That’s nice of them,” Link said after a long silence. A minute or so passed between each part of the conversation, as if either of them speaking too soon might lead to them suddenly being all over each other. Both of them were equally determined to keep themselves apart. Rhett nodded, then stood and cleared the plates, wrapping the extra tamales and placing them in the refrigerator.

Link reached under the sink for soap like it was second nature, like he’d done it a million times instead of just once earlier in the day, and he washed the dishes carefully.

“You don’t… you don’t have to do that.” Rhett stood at the end of the counter, his voice softer than Link had expected.

“I do, though. I can’t help you with the crabs. I can’t get a job somewhere else. But I can wash dishes, so I’m going to wash them.” Link picked at a piece of rice stuck to the side of the pot it had been cooked in. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay,” Rhett sighed. He wasn’t going to fight over the dishes getting done. “I’m going to shower. You a morning shower person or a night shower person?”

Link looked at him in confusion. He didn’t know which one he was. He’d only remembered showering when Rhett had offered up the use of his own shower, and that had always been around mid-day.

“I guess I’m a whenever-you-don’t-need-the-shower kind of person.” Link shrugged. “If it’s easier, I can do it while you’re out selling crabs. I can use the outdoor one if you want so I’m not in your room while you’re gone.”

“Nah, it’s okay. You can shower up there whenever,” Rhett said. Before Link could reply, he’d already gone upstairs to the shower.

Left alone during the shower, Link moved from the dishes to the countertops, wiping them down and scrubbing in each nook and cranny. He picked at the grout between the tile, trying to scrub out layers of dirt that had stained it over time. He’d made it a few rows of tile in before Rhett stepped down the stairs, hair wet and messy.

“What are you doing?” Rhett asked from the bottom step.

“Come over here and look at this.” Link didn’t stand up, didn’t turn toward Rhett, just continued to scrub at the tile he was working on. Rhett came close, peering over Link’s shoulder at the grout he was diligently cleaning. He let out a low whistle at the progress Link had made, and he couldn’t help but feel impressed he’d gotten it looking so good. It hadn’t even looked that clean when Rhett had bought the place. But Rhett realized how close he was standing to Link, how into his space he was, and he took a step back with a sharp inhale, trying to steady himself. Link’s arms tensed against the countertop as he turned to look at Rhett, but when he turned, Rhett was distancing himself, walking as quickly as possible to his chair.

* * *

 

Link was sound asleep when Rhett came down the stairs the next morning. His chest rose and fell softly with his breath, and he looked like he was completely at peace. It was a stark contrast from the way he’d been near-frantic the day before, panicked over the nightmare he’d had. Rhett tried to slip outside without waking Link, cursing the creak of the door as he opened it to go outside. It was early, but he worried if he sat down to read, Link would wake. If his sleep was anywhere near as fraught with nightmares as it seemed, Rhett knew Link needed the quiet rest. Rhett didn’t even make coffee, worried the sounds of percolation would be too much.

He pulled the traps up carefully, now less worried about staying quiet since the door was closed tightly behind him. But after hauling the third crab trap up, he turned to load the bushel basket and saw Link kneeling, carefully laying the ice packs over the crabs he’d already pulled. Link was being excessively gentle, nearly too gentle, too slow, trying to avoid breaking any more crabs. He hadn’t said a word to Rhett, just silently walked out and started placing the ice packs on. Rhett didn’t talk, either, and they both maintained the silence of the still ocean air in the early morning.

When Rhett finished baiting the traps and placing them back in the water, he ventured inside to find Link pouring two cups of coffee, one for each of them. It tasted unreal, a far cry from the overly strong coffee Rhett typically brewed. He could, for the first time, pick out the subtle notes of the blend for a change, could feel how smooth it was on his tongue. It wasn’t a drink. It was an  _ experience _ .

“This… this is really good.” Rhett wasn’t sure how to properly emphasize how good it was, but compared to the bitter, strong mess he usually produced, this was a godsend.

“I’m glad. I uh, I wasn’t sure I did it right.” Link hesitated, then drained his cup. “I hope the crabs are okay?” It was a question, not a statement. “I was a little worried I might break one, but I tried to be careful.”

“They’re good. Thank you.” Rhett was struggling to keep his distance, the two of them standing too close in the kitchen, Rhett leaned against a counter with no space to step back.

“So you’re going to go sell your crabs now?” Link blinked, trying to keep his focus on anything but their proximity. “I can keep working on the kitchen tiles, unless you have something you’d rather me clean first?”

“Actually, uh…” Rhett licked his lower lip. “You want to come with me today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @jeaxra/@mythicalbutt/@mythical-trash for beta reading this chapter for me! See y'all next Wednesday. Visit me on [tumblr](https://linkslipssinkships.tumblr.com) for a Spoiler snippet every Saturday. <3


	10. Screwed

Rhett McLaughlin was completely, totally screwed. It was obvious to him the second Link sat in the cab of his truck for the first time, the way he looked completely at home in the passenger seat. He knew it by the way Link placed his arm out the window, rested his fingers on the top of the truck as they drove down the road. He knew it by the way Link’s shoulders stretched against the tee shirt Rhett had loaned him that day.

And when Link started to go with him to sell crabs the rest of that week, Rhett knew he was screwed in the way Link’s lips parted slightly as he let out a soft hum, tried to sing along with the songs that Rhett played in the truck, tried to learn the words. He saw just how screwed he was when he introduced Link to Danny and to the crew at JT’s as Link helped him carry in baskets of crab or fish, and they instantly connected with his contagious personality. Rhett had trouble remembering why he’d avoided introducing them in the first place. Link didn’t make an effort to give a backstory, just asked them about their own lives and said he was staying with Rhett for a while when pressed. No one asked for details, and Link didn’t offer them up. But he had such an ease with people in a way Rhett didn’t, and Rhett found himself drawn to Link magnetically. It was becoming a problem.

“Okay, so, no offense, but stealing my mouthwash isn’t going to cut it forever, man. We’ve got to get you an actual toothbrush so those pearly whites don’t fall out,” Rhett laughed as he turned the volume down on the Merle Haggard tape that Link had put into the cassette player as they left Skinner’s.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to use so much of it.” Link looked at his lap, feeling bad for stealing swigs of mouthwash each morning, but Rhett was right. He had to do  _ something  _ to keep toxic morning breath at bay, and he’d hoped Rhett wouldn’t mind. Rhett hadn’t noticed Link was using it at first, hadn’t even considered the fact that Link was well overdue for a toothbrush after living with him for over a week without one. It wasn’t until he used his mouthwash one day, wondered why he was going through it twice as fast as usual, that it hit him. Link didn’t have any of the basic essentials… toothbrush, deodorant. Rhett looked at the razor he’d given Link and noticed it was dull. He was angry with himself for not realizing Link’s needs sooner, making an effort to get him some basic hygiene supplies at the very least, something to make him feel like he was welcome.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rhett dismissed Link’s concern, wanting desperately to say he was sorry for not going shopping sooner. He turned toward the bridge, the opposite direction of the house, and Link looked at him, confused.

“Where are we going?”

“Shopping.”

Link had been sleeping on Rhett’s couch for a week and a half, and this was the first mention of going to the store. It was Link’s first time getting off the island since he’d washed up on it, and he felt a sense of anxiety and excitement. The last time he’d even been to the bridge, attempted to leave the island, was the day he found himself standing on Rhett’s porch in the rain, but things were different now, easier than they were that day. The bridge was easier, too, sitting in the passenger seat instead of trying to walk the distance. Rhett drove over the high bridge, with Rhett taking in the view, the way the bay stretched out and met ocean, the sunlight sparkling over the water. “We usually shop in Tillman’s Corner,” Rhett explained. “Everything here has island prices, and we can’t afford island prices.” It was a 45 minute drive to the nearby town, but it was worth the gas, the drive, for the prices they’d find there. It was away from the tourist hotspots, where the price was jacked up on every item.

As they entered the store, Link followed behind Rhett, taking his lead on which direction to go. Rhett made a beeline for the shoe department.

“First off, those aren’t working.” Rhett pointed at the oversized flip flops on Link’s feet. They were his, loaned until Link could get proper shoes, but they were easily a size and a half too big for him.They’d been sliding off every few minutes. Rhett knew the shoes couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Link scanned the shoes, noting the price tags on the shelf below each one.

“You don’t have to get me shoes. It’s okay,” Link offered, but Rhett insisted, holding up a few that looked like they might work. Link gave in, trying on a few pairs until he found a simple pair of sneakers that looked to be the cheapest ones in his size. 

It wasn’t until later in the store, when Rhett was watching Link smell the eleventh deodorant he’d picked up, that Rhett realized the little things Link did that were so obnoxious didn’t annoy him. Rhett felt a sense of dread, of sheer panic, over how much he  _ wasn’t  _ annoyed by it. He wanted to be irritated about how long it was taking Link to make a simple choice like which deodorant to buy. If it were anyone else, he’d be tapping his foot, annoyed, counting the seconds until he could go home and read a book. But with Link, he just stood and watched, finding Link’s careful decision-making endearing. Rhett knew what a problem it was, knew that he was still feeling serious attraction to a man he’d vowed not to get close to, not after what happened the last time when Link had run off. So he forced himself to look away from Link, to try to get annoyed at how slow this shopping trip was going. He’d be halfway home by now if he’d come alone.

“Are you going to smell  _ every  _ deodorant in this store, or just half of the aisle?” Rhett jabbed. Link simply blushed and smirked, placing the lid back on and putting it in the cart.

“See? Easy choice. I want that one.” Link had no clue if it smelled better or worse than any other deodorant he’d picked up. In reality, it didn’t matter which one he chose, but he’d taken so long, thinking if he smelled enough of them maybe something would jog his memory. They all just blurred together, though, and Link felt bad for making Rhett wait. Or at least, he felt bad until he saw the smile teasing at the corners of Rhett’s mouth, and saw that Rhett was teasing him, amused by the length of time he’d spent picking.

“You sure? What about toothbrushes? You going to need to inspect those carefully, too, or are you just going to pick a pretty one real quick?”

“Y’know what? I think I need to consider my choices  _ very  _ carefully. I can’t go grabbing a less-than-stellar one.” Link wrinkled his nose, letting his fingers graze as many toothbrushes as possible, teasing that he might just be there all day. But after finishing his slow, careful tease, he reached for the cheapest one and passed it to Rhett with a wink. “After careful consideration, this seems the most suitable.”

“Jerk.” Rhett rolled his eyes, but he smiled, too, and Link felt a flutter in his chest, a tug toward the man he was shopping with.  _ Dammit _ .

It was no surprise to Link when the grocery portion of their trip took them to the aisle that held bags of rice and various types of beans. Rhett picked up several, seemingly at random, and piled them into the cart.

“Hey, Rhett?” Link asked, grabbing a few bags off of the shelf and placing them in the cart. “Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer it.”

Rhett’s mouth went dry. He wondered if Link had caught on to his shameless flirting, flirting that went beyond friendliness, in the hygiene aisles, and if this was Link asking him to drop it, to back off and leave him alone. He braced himself for it, for whatever it was Link wanted to know, to call him out on.

“Sure, I guess.”

“I mean, I know what kind of money you make selling the crabs, since I’ve been around you, but you said you couldn’t afford to eat them, and that’s fine. I don’t know what your expenses are like, or what your house costs or anything, and I’m not trying to pry about that, okay?” Link started. “But don’t you ever want somethin’ besides rice and beans? You… I mean… it seems like you make enough to buy other stuff.” Link wasn’t complaining about the food, but suddenly he found himself worried that Rhett might take it that way as he tried to read the expression on his face. “I don’t mind rice and beans, please don’t think I don’t like them. They’re really good. I just wondered why that, why not something else, like peanut butter or cereal or something?”

Rhett took a deep breath. He wasn’t offended by the question, not really. Truth be told, it had started as a way to manage expenses, since the season he could sell crab would fade and then disappear until the following year. But once he’d started down that path, started eating rice and beans, he figured he’d keep doing it, save the extra money and spend it on something else like books. Living alone, there was no one to complain about it, to mention how weird it was that it was all he ate.

“I do  _ want  _ other things sometimes, yeah. And money’s good right now, obviously we’re doin’ alright right now.” Rhett implied, flat-out said, a  _ we _ in that statement, then instantly regretted it, wished he’d said  _ I’m  _ instead of  _ we’re _ , avoid making Link uncomfortable with the implication that they were a duo, a pair, hell, a couple. He prayed Link didn’t notice, or if he did, that he would forget it. “But when the tourist season slows down, the crab market slows down, too. And then after that, the crabs aren’t around to catch. The money I make now,” Rhett shifted his wording to be an  _ I  _ instead of a  _ we _ , knowing Link was involved enough that he could have used the other word just as well, “has to last me until the crabs come back, and then until the tourists do. If nobody’s buying, there’s nothing coming in, and I’ve still gotta keep the lights on and food around. Can’t do that if I spend it all on lobster and steak in the summertime.”

“Oh, okay,” Link nodded. They pushed the cart in silence for a long time. Rhett made a point to add variety to the cart, more than his usual rice, beans, and coffee. He piled in a few bags of frozen corn, a bag of potatoes, a few apples.

“Do you like peanut butter and cereal?” Rhett wondered aloud.

“I don’t know. It was just the first thing that came to mind.”

* * *

 

The frozen vegetables and potatoes helped, but after a week of those mixed in with their rice-and-bean rotation, Link started to wish he’d pushed the peanut butter issue more. They’d gotten tamales from Miguel’s one day, which was a good shake-up to their routine, but he worried he might scream if he saw another black bean or kidney bean. He didn’t want to sound rude or ungrateful-- he could be picking half-eaten cheeseburgers from the trash-- but he wished they could expand their horizons, at least a little bit.

Rhett had been letting Link sleep on the couch still, and Link was grateful for that. He’d woken Rhett a few times with screaming, thrashing nightmares that continued to plague him, that wouldn’t leave him alone. They destroyed him at night, then haunted him during the day as he struggled to figure them out.  _ If  _ there was anything to figure out at all.

Rhett had been paying for everything-- the food, Link’s toiletries, all of the bills of course, and Link didn’t have a dime to his name, a way to contribute at all. Asking for Rhett to buy peanut butter, or literally anything other than what Rhett served him, didn’t seem kind or thankful, so he kept his mouth shut. Link picked at his food, looking down at the plate and thinking about the same food as always, and about the nightmare he’d had the night before. It held all of his attention, and he was barely bringing a few grains of rice and a couple of beans to his mouth at a time. Rhett noticed, knew it wasn’t like Link to not eat much, and Rhett was worried.

“Everything okay?” Link didn’t answer Rhett’s question, instead continuing to push his food around, so Rhett ducked his head to try to meet Link’s gaze. Link built a moat of empty plastic between the rice and beans he was separating on the plate. “Um, earth to Link?” Rhett waved his hand a bit.

“Sorry, what?” Link snapped to attention upon hearing his name.  _ His name _ . It was the thing that had made him flee before, but in this moment, it was the thing that woke him up to Rhett talking to him. It  _ felt  _ like his. He had to have a name, and Link worked as well as any. The longer he used it, the less it felt like an odd replacement for a void, and the more it felt like who he was. He knew that, weeks later, if the same events transpired as before, he wouldn’t run at the sound of his name anymore. Part of him wished they’d been cautious, waited until now, when he wouldn’t be as quick to leave, as quick to run away from the feelings he had been developing. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten why he’d run to begin with, moments after he’d brought Rhett to climax. There was a history in not knowing his name, the fact that the blank line in his brain where his name belonged was representative of a life he’d forgotten. It wasn’t his choice to leave it behind and be on this island, but he was still here all the same. Without knowing the alternative, he was starting to doubt if he’d choose the life he had over the life he was living now, but as it stood, there was still that seed of a question.

He and Rhett shared a balance, a careful one, as they lived under one roof. Somehow, though, he felt like they were emotionally oceans apart as Link continued to force himself to resist looking at Rhett or letting him in. But he was having trouble holding onto that. Rice and beans be damned, Link felt content, and that was worrying. It meant he might be losing his drive to find his way off of the island after all.

“I asked if you were alright. You’re not… you’re not eating. You’ve been lost in space all day. What’s up?” Rhett asked, knowing Link didn’t open up to him about what was on his mind. Link was tired of repeating himself, of talking about the fact that he still didn’t know who he was, and he was certain Rhett was sick of hearing about it, too. And this time it wasn’t just about that, it was about things that he could never tell Rhett he was thinking.

“Can you teach me how to fish? Or do I need a license for that, too?” Link knew he couldn’t help with the crabs, but he felt useless.

“Yeah, I mean, technically you need a license for that. But maybe if you just catch them off of my dock, and I take the fish off of the line for you, and I say I caught them, and maybe we won’t sell the ones you catch… maybe we can skirt around it? If you really want to learn, I mean.” Rhett shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t want to risk it, risk Link getting caught fishing without a license. The fine would be atrocious, he was sure. But Link wanted to help, and had cleaned the house twice over since the first night he’d stayed at Rhett’s. Link was okay with reading, but Rhett could tell he didn’t have the patience to sit and read for as long as he did. He wanted to be  _ doing  _ something, to help in some way. Rhett wasn’t going to begrudge him this, an idea he had for how he could contribute.

“If it’s a problem, I won’t. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you.” Link’s shoulders slumped slightly, almost imperceptibly, but Rhett saw it regardless.

“I think it’s a good idea, actually.” Rhett stroked his beard. At those words, Link sat up a little straighter and finished his lunch, like the thought alone was enough to get him through.

After lunch, Rhett searched under the house to try to find a spare fishing pole for Link to use, but he came up empty-handed. He grabbed his own pole instead. They could just make one fishing pole work for now, at least until he could get another one for Link. As long as Link was just learning, one was plenty anyway. Link watched carefully as Rhett cast out, scrunching his eyes and taking mental notes as Rhett reeled in a fish carefully, tossing it into a bucket he’d had Link fill with water. He passed the pole to Link.

“You’re up, buddyroll.” Rhett smiled, but Link was hesitant, unsure he could actually do this. His hands shook as he placed the bait on the hook as Rhett had shown him minutes before. He cast out, and Rhett tried to suppress a laugh, reminding himself that Link had never done this before, at least not that he could remember. Rhett encouraged Link to reel it back in and try again. He placed his hand on Link’s, showing him how to get it just right. In Link’s ear, he said quietly “here, like this” as the line stretched into the distance, Link allowing himself to be guided by Rhett’s movements. Link leaned back toward him, let his back and shoulders brush against Rhett’s chest, and Rhett let his hands linger too long after the line had been cast out. Link didn’t need him to keep holding on, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Thanks,” Link breathed. He tried to put his sole focus on fishing itself, not on Rhett’s touch, waiting for a fish to bite. After a few moments, he felt a tug on the line and got so excited, so nervous about what to do next, that he nearly dropped the fishing pole. He reeled it in carefully, like Rhett had shown him, trying to strike the balance between speed, so the fish wouldn’t let go before it was hooked, and steadiness, so the fish wouldn’t get spooked or hurt. He marveled at the catch as Rhett removed it from the hook. It was small, but large enough that they didn’t have to throw it back. He was proud of it.

“I think you just caught tonight’s dinner,” Rhett said. He wasn’t going to sell the fish Link had caught without him having a commercial license, but he didn’t mind eating the fish so it wouldn’t go to waste, or baiting his crab traps with it. He thought Link should get to eat his first catch, anyway, and Link beamed, almost child-like, that he’d managed to catch it himself, or at least with minimal help.

Link let his legs dangle off of the edge of the dock they sat on, and Rhett sat next to him, closer than the space called for, the wide expanse of the dock offering plenty of chances to put a good amount of distance between them. Instead, he sat close, but not so close they’d actually touch. Link tried to bait the hook again, the pole resting between them on the dock. The bait slipped from his fingers into the water before he could get it probably attached.

“Crap, dang it!” Link exclaimed, leaning far over the dock to watch as the bait sank in the water, as the fish beneath them swarmed to compete for it. It was fascinating, and he leaned more to get a better look. He couldn’t stop himself as he fell forward, slipping under the water with a soft splash.

It didn’t take him long to reach the floor of the bay, pushing up on the soft sandy bottom and kicking his feet hard to find the surface again. He heard a dull splash nearby, and as he broke the surface of the water, he saw the pole on the dock, but Rhett was nowhere to be found. Shortly after, Rhett surfaced beside him, and they looked at each other for a long moment, trying to process what had happened.  _ Rhett jumped in to save me _ . Link took a sharp inhale and let himself drift closer to Rhett, who held himself in place on the dock. He grinned, then hit the water with his hand in jest, sending a small splash toward Rhett. Rhett splashed back, and it dissolved into all-out war, water flying everywhere and fishing long forgotten.

Link swam toward Rhett, grabbing his shoulders, gripping them with his fingertips to push Rhett under the water. Rhett’s hands found Link’s waist, grazing the skin between his shorts and tank top as he pulled Link under with him. His hands stayed in place on Link’s waist and Link hadn’t let go of his shoulders, either. Both of them splashed to the surface, sputtering and laughing, nearly out of breath. Link realized how far they were getting from the dock now, their war taking them a couple of yards out into the bay, and he felt nerves take over. He felt himself starting to panic, his eyes going wide. Rhett noticed him trembling, noticed the look on his face, and without a word, Link took off.

He took long strokes through the water, swimming toward the dock and heaving himself over the edge, collapsing on the wood, and rolling over to take deep breaths. He wanted to keep enjoying the water with Rhett, but his muscles weren’t used to swimming now, if they ever were, his lungs tired from trying to hold his breath under the water. He closed his eyes to block out the sunlight beating down on his face, draping an arm to cover his eyes tighter. Rhett lifted himself on the dock, too, and was startled to see the way Link was lying there, on his back. For a moment, fear shot through him, worried Link was hurt, had hit his head, something.

He inched closer, trying hard to get a better look, to make sure Link was conscious and that he hadn’t inhaled any water when they’d been goofing off. He was inches from Link now, hovering over him and reaching his hand out to graze Link’s arm gently, to see if he’d stir at all. Link  _ did  _ stir, moved to grip Rhett’s arm with care, placing his other hand behind Rhett’s head and guiding him down into a kiss. It was slow and soft, less fevered and frantic than the one they’d shared weeks before. This was calculated, each of them trying to figure out how much was  _ too much _ , how much they could handle before scaring the other, or themselves, away.

Link allowed himself to enjoy it, pulling Rhett closer until Rhett was straddling him on the dock, both of them in soaking wet clothing, their hair dripping as their mouths met again and again, hungrier and hungrier as they accepted it, begged for it, their tongues speaking silent promises into each other’s mouths. Link raked his hand along Rhett’s back, his fingers grazing them hem of his shirt as his fingers found their way underneath. His fingertips traced Rhett’s side, up his stomach, to his chest. Rhett was struggling to hold himself up instead of caving to the touches. Link wanted, more than anything, to peel Rhett’s clothing off, wanted for Rhett to be closer,  _ closer _ , and the way Rhett was breathing, the way he was kissing, Link knew he wanted it, too.

Neither of them noticed at first as the rain started to fall on them, already soaking wet from the impromptu swim, still focused on every kiss, touch, movement, instead of the way the sky darkened above them. It wasn’t until the thunder that they jerked apart, rushing inside. Rhett wasn’t about to let this moment close before they could fully open up to how they felt, and as he dragged Link inside the house, he kicked the door closed with his foot, the fishing pole and bucket temporarily forgotten. He pressed Link against the kitchen wall, holding him in place as his mouth explored Link’s neck, as Link turned his head to give Rhett the space he needed. His hands slipped under Link’s shirt, fingertips grazing skin, digging in just barely, not hard enough to hurt but enough to keep Link awake to everything that was happening. His shorts were tight, not just from being wet, but from how much he wanted Rhett, needed Rhett, and Rhett was taking note as his thigh pressed against Link, keeping him pinned to the wall.

“God, I want you,” Link exhaled against Rhett’s ear, his lips and breath and words tickling his earlobe. Rhett didn’t need a second invitation, his fingers immediately going to the button of Link’s shorts,  _ Rhett’s  _ shorts on Link, to unfasten them and slide them down. The bay water made them nearly impossible to remove, so Rhett pulled them down as far as he could and sank to his knees in front of Link. Link’s hands kept Rhett close, his fingers tugging at Rhett’s hair, at times almost too hard, as Rhett wrapped his lips around Link, finally reciprocating after long weeks of shutting their feelings down.

Link thought he might buckle at the knees-- it felt impossibly good, the way Rhett’s lips, tongue, warmed him. Rhett’s hands gripped his thighs to move Link closer,  _ deeper _ , and it didn’t take long for Link to whisper, gasp, moan, and scream Rhett’s name.

“I’m going to--” Link started, and Rhett moved his head back just enough, letting his tongue catch the end result, his lips perfectly glazed as he let his tongue lick anything off that remained. Link grabbed his shirt, tugging him back up, back in for another kiss, a deeper one, one that almost said “thank you,” and “I never want this to stop,” all in a breath and a flick of the tongue. Another crack of thunder pulled them from the spell that had come over them on the dock, though, and Rhett remembered the fish they’d planned for dinner. He pulled back and Link let out a choked laugh, one that seemed like he was surprised at what they’d done. He remembered the fish, too, and as he struggled to pull the shorts back up, to compose himself, Rhett rushed back into the storm to grab the fishing equipment and the fish. Link couldn’t help but think about how the last time it stormed like this, he’d found his way back to Rhett’s doorstep, back into Rhett’s life after swearing he’d never speak to him again, swearing that  _ this  _ could never happen again. As Rhett walked back inside, saw Link still leaned against the wall, he thanked his lucky stars that this time when the storm hit, Link was already right where he was meant to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @jeaxra/mythicalbutt/mythical-trash for beta reading this chapter and fixing my glaring errors!
> 
> See y'all on Washed Up Wednesday with another chapter (and a return to the chapter on Weds, spoilers on Sat format).


	11. Resist

Link peered at Rhett over the top of his book. He tried to carefully consider his words, construct his sentence to convey what he needed to say without hurting Rhett’s feelings. He rehearsed the thoughts in his head more than once, but somehow started speaking in the middle of what he’d planned to say.

“We can’t do that again,” Link started. He’d tried so hard to say it more eloquently, carefully, to let Rhett know that it wasn’t about him, that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Instead, Link managed to screw it up, start with the hardest part. Instead, he tried to press forward, and took a deep breath.  _ We really, really can’t do this again _ .

“What?” Rhett bristled and tensed up, hoping like hell he’d misheard Link, or that this was some sort of sick joke.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Rhett. I know I started it. I  _ know  _ that. But we… I… I thought it would be okay and now I feel like it’s not,” Link forced the words out, his eyes burning and his heart sinking. This wasn’t how he’d planned to tell Rhett, but no matter how much they both wanted this, it was wrong, all wrong. He desperately wanted to be close to Rhett, longing to cross the room and straddle Rhett in his high-backed chair and tell him everything would be okay, plant kisses all over his face, his neck, his lips. But he couldn’t. Anytime they got close, he felt the guilt prickle on the back of his neck thinking of who or what he might have left behind.

“I… you… but…” Rhett opened his mouth, then closed it again. He clenched his jaw, and through gritted teeth, somehow choked out “Fine. We won’t do it again.” There was no point in arguing it, but Link being so wishy-washy was getting to him. Link pulled him in, pushed him away, then pulled him in again and setting everything in motion before pushing him away the moment they’d recovered from their second collision. 

A large part of Rhett was sick of the games Link seemed to be playing, and he wanted to tell Link to get out if he was going to be so hot and so cold. The other part of him knew that Link had nowhere else to go. He tried not to let himself think about how much he needed Link to be there as much as Link needed to be there, knowing he couldn’t go back to the silence of the empty house, to how things were before he’d met Link. He’d rather have Link there but not get to  _ have  _ Link, than to not have Link at all. The thought infuriated him. He wasn’t mad at Link, but at himself.

“You, uh… you have a reason or somethin’?” Rhett felt he at least deserved an explanation for the sudden change of heart. It wasn’t unwarranted for him to flat-out demand one, not really. It seemed clear that he was being played.

“I swear to God it’s not you,” Link wanted, needed Rhett to know that above anything. “It’s just… okay. What if I wake up tomorrow, and suddenly I know who I am and where I’m from, and I realize that I’m married to this amazing guy who never gave up looking for me? And I’ve spent all that time not remembering him or our life together and messing around with someone else. Even if that someone is the most incredible person I can ever remember meeting, which… you are, trust me, God, you are… isn’t that still cheating?” Tears flowed down Link’s cheeks and he clenched his fists tight around the blanket he had draped over his lap on the couch.

“Yeah, Link, so what happens if you  _ never _ remember who you are? Are you actually going to live the rest of your life alone because you might be cheating on someone you don’t even know you’re with? Really?” Rhett’s tone was defensive now. “What if you wake up and remember everything and you find out you’re single in your old life, then what?” He didn’t mean to snap, to sound agitated. He understood  _ why  _ Link wanted to keep his distance. The facts of the situation made sense. Were the roles reversed, he might have even found himself saying the same things to Link. But it was his heart caught in the middle of Link’s internal war, it was him that Link kept jerking around by letting them get so close and pushing Rhett away. Rhett didn’t know how many more rejections he could take from Link, not with the way he felt about him.

“If I woke up tomorrow and remembered and I was single, then I’d want, beyond anything else, to give things a shot with you.” Link knew he was asking a lot, asking Rhett to wait until he remembered, risk him remembering a life with someone else and never being with Rhett in the end. “I just wish that we could make out, or do what we did, and that I wouldn’t feel this… this… guilt. But the thing is, until I  _ know _ , it just seems… God, why can’t I say what I’m trying to say? I… nevermind.” Link slammed his fist against the couch, furious with himself. Hurt was written all over Rhett’s face and he was to blame for that.

“How long are you gonna wait, Link? How long do you sit on that couch and wait to remember something that might never come back to you, while I work my ass off to make sure you have everything you need?” Rhett regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, but now he was in too deep and Link wasn’t replying, flinching like he’d been hit. “Got it. You know what? You do what you need to do. Just… as long as you’re sorting your shit out, leave me the hell out of it.” Rhett stood up in a huff, storming upstairs and muttering “You wanted it to never happen again? Don’t worry, it fucking won’t.” The door slammed, and Link no longer tried to hide the sobs that shook him.

* * *

 

Rhett wanted so badly to be furious at Link for drawing him in and then pushing him away not once, but twice, but he was angrier at himself for not being more understanding of what life had to be like for Link. He understood, after some thought, how Link had to have that nagging thought in the back of his mind. Who he was, who he might be, and what, hell,  _ who  _ he’d left behind had to hurt, to come up at the worst moments. Link didn’t stop him in the moment, Rhett was sure, because he truly wanted it, but after it was over, after they came down from the emotional high of touch, taste, the guilt hit. Rhett kicked himself for kissing Link-- again-- after saying he wouldn’t. He felt at fault for the confused and conflicted thoughts Link was facing. And he was horrified by his behavior, storming out of the room like a child, leaving Link to pick up the pieces alone. His eyes welled with tears. He’d been so insensitive to Link, said horrible things, out of hurt and rejection.

It made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t want Link to feel like he had to have feelings for Rhett in order to stay. That wasn’t the case, and Rhett needed,  _ wanted _ Link to know that. Rhett still couldn’t even figure out why he cared. He’d been alone happily for years, living his life by himself, solitary, the lone king of his castle. He was over love, hurt enough for one lifetime. But somehow, the moment he plowed into Link with his bike, he’d let it all change.

Rhett couldn’t pinpoint what it was about Link that got under his skin, but he knew with absolute certainty that he got to Rhett in a different, more intense way than anyone ever had. Rhett couldn’t remember ever feeling infatuation like this, or anything feeling the way things did with Link. Easy but hard, empty but overflowing, depending on whether Link felt particularly close or distant in a given day.

He couldn’t fault Link, not in the slightest, but he also couldn’t let things keep going the way they had been. He couldn’t let Link in again if Link was just going to shut the door on him. But then a thought hit Rhett with a sudden force, leaving waves of panic washing over him. He’d stormed to his room and slammed the door and there was a very real chance that when he walked down those steps again, Link would be  _ gone _ . He felt his breath catch in his throat, the air escaping his lungs, and he felt sick. If Link was gone, he didn’t know what to do, but he knew this time he wasn’t letting Link go without running after him. He’d drive anywhere he had to, find him, do anything he had to to let Link know that he could stay, that Rhett would keep his hands to himself, he’d do anything. Rhett raced to the door and yanked the door open, running to the stairs and tripping over a set of legs on his way before realizing Link had been right there, right outside of his door waiting.

Rhett hadn’t heard him come up, but there he was, sitting on the floor outside of Rhett’s room waiting for Rhett to leave his room so they could talk.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

“Wait, why are  _ you  _ sorry?” Link asked incredulously. He didn’t give Rhett time to answer before explaining why Rhett should not, under any circumstances, apologize. “I pushed you away. I kissed you, let you… let you… and then shut you down out of nowhere. You have  _ no _ reason to be sorry.” Link’s voice shook, making it clear he was fighting to keep the tears from flowing again as he choked out the words. “Rhett, I… I feel so… so much for you, I can’t even explain it. And you’ve done so many things for me. And… and… I really want everything we’re doing while we’re doing it, I wanted to stay on that couch with you forever before I left, but then I realized I couldn’t, and then when you had me against the wall, fuck, I wanted that so much, it was so good. I’m not… I’m not just doing this to fuck with you, or play games. But I can’t shake this nagging voice after, this thing that keeps telling me this could all be wrong.”

“I get it,” Rhett said, sinking to the floor beside Link. Their shoulders pressed together as Rhett leaned back against the wall, the two of them sitting side-by-side, looking through Rhett’s open door toward his balcony. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I get it. I really… I really do understand. I know it didn’t seem like it, but I do. It’s just… it’s… fuck. I don’t really talk to people. I don’t let them in. And then I let you in, and you shut me down and I start to panic, start worrying there’s something wrong… wrong with me.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, and I’m not saying this to make you feel like you do. I was a dick, I acknowledge that, but I feel like you at least deserve to know why I acted so badly. It’s not an excuse, though.” Rhett couldn’t help it, he was crying. Link leaned his head onto Rhett’s shoulder, and Rhett froze at the touch.

“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” Link wished everything could be easy, that he’d somehow know what was right and what wasn’t, that he’d know if he was hurting anyone back home or if things were okay. As he thought about how soft and kind Rhett was, he felt a stab in his chest, the pain of frustration, the hurt over loss. Not just the loss of everything that came before he washed up on the island, but the loss of Rhett as he pushed him away. It all hurt, and Link was worried he was making the wrong decision. Not the decision to stay, but the decision to tell Rhett they couldn’t.  _ Am I really going to wait forever, like Rhett said? _

“I don’t know,” Rhett whispered into the space between them, leaning his head against Link’s. “I really, really don’t know.”

* * *

 

Rhett cleaned the fish he and Link had caught earlier, before everything had happened, before life got so confusing once again. Link watched the careful precision, the quick maneuvers as Rhett cleaned the fish. Link certainly wasn’t ready to learn how to clean fish himself, but he didn’t mind watching how Rhett did it from across the counter, the way his hands moved as Link sliced potatoes. He made thick cuts in the ugly potatoes they’d picked up at a discount, solely because they were considered less-than-aesthetically-pleasing. Link wondered what could make a potato ugly. Any potato could be steak fries if they tried hard enough, he figured, as he arranged them on a baking sheet.

They worked hard to prepare food that would pair well together. Link couldn’t help but think about how easy it felt, how natural everything was. He and Rhett had, in less than a month, fallen into a rhythm, a routine, a sense of domesticity in the overall confusion Link felt, and Link found it to be a bright spot of clarity in the cloudiness of his mind. Eating together, cooking together, waking early in the mornings so Link could arrange ice packs as Rhett caught crabs, all of it made this feel like  _ home _ . Link had gone from keeping his distance to having Rhett on his knees, back to pushing Rhett away and insisting it could never happen again, but in spite of it, all Link wanted right now was for it to happen again, for them to try this.

In the hallway, they’d thought about why it couldn’t happen, and Link had said he wanted to at least wait, see if his memory would come back. In the end, Rhett agreed to leave it up to Link, said he wouldn’t push where Link wasn’t comfortable going, and if Link needed them to never,  _ ever  _ touch again, they wouldn’t. Link didn’t feel like he could change his mind so soon after that conversation, already so back-and-forth on the topic, less than an hour after they’d mutually agreed to keep their distance.

But even in the silence, they had an obvious chemistry, an energy between them long after their tears dried. Link didn’t think he could swallow his pride, though, tell Rhett that he’d had it all wrong and Rhett had it all right, that he wasn’t going to wait forever for something that might not exist, knowing he wanted, needed Rhett. Instead, he kept quiet, slicing potatoes and begging for his memory to come back so he could get rid of the nagging guilt. He wondered what he’d choose, in the end, if he remembered who he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to mythical-trash for beta reading this chapter!!!


	12. Nightmare

Not even a week later, Link’s screams pierced the darkness again, his covers thrown onto the floor and body covered in a cold sweat. Rhett raced down the stairs, two at a time, to Link’s side, not bothering to keep his distance like he had the first few times. This seemed worse than usual, so he placed his hand on Link’s arm, shook him gently.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “It’s alright. It’s just a dream. It’s okay.” Link blinked, letting his eyes adjust. They were wide, the horrifying images he’d imagined replaying in his mind.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Link’s voice shook as he spoke. “I’m okay,” he reassured Rhett, but he clearly wasn’t. Rhett made sure Link was awake, watching him carefully so he wouldn’t slip back into sleep and into the same dream he’d come from, and once he was sure, he removed his hand and stood, staying close. If Link was awake, he’d done what he needed to do. Both of them were learning to deal with it, the nightmares that came several times a week, but Link still refused to open up about them, explain what he was feeling or seeing in the dreams.

He felt nauseated and weak. He wanted to explain what was happening, what he was dreaming about, but he could never find the words for the horrifying demons that came for him in his sleep, couldn’t describe what it felt like right then. He felt like his heart might beat out of his chest, and he was thankful that Rhett had pulled him out of his slumber.

“What time is it?” Link’s voice cracked from screaming before, now that he spoke quietly.

“I don’t know. Sorry, I didn’t check.”

Link sat up, rubbing his eyes. Rhett sat down next to him on the couch, keeping his distance. Rhett rarely sat on the couch, always preferring his chair across the room, but something about the way Link was shuddering told Rhett that he needed to be where he was, closer to Link. He could feel the tremors that rocked Link’s body even halfway across the couch from him, could hear the ragged, terrified breaths as Link struggled to calm himself down.

“Is there anything I can do? Coffee? Anything?” Rhett felt completely helpless, wishing he could take the nightmares for a night and let Link sleep peacefully. But he couldn’t, they both knew it. He worried the nightmares were related to the past that brought Link to the island, but until Link could figure out what about the dreams were so disturbing, before he could vocalize them, neither of them would know. Link didn’t answer, not verbally, instead sliding his hand across the couch until it met Rhett’s.

Rhett accepted his hand, clasped it between each of his own. They sat like that for a long time, apart, but maintaining contact as the shake in Link’s hand, his whole body, slowed and then stopped altogether. Rhett didn’t want to push Link or make it seem like he was trying to force anything more in that moment. All he wanted to do was protect Link, help him feel better.

Link answered the silent hesitation Rhett seemed to have by sliding closer, leaning his head on Rhett’s shoulder, and Rhett slowly eased an arm around him, holding him for a long time. They both leaned back onto the couch, tried to find a comfortable way to sit together, and when they did, Link’s breathing became slow, peaceful. Rhett looked down to see, in the still-dark room, Link’s eyes completely closed. He was sleeping again, this time without panic gripping him, and Rhett allowed his own eyes to close.

The sun was shining brightly in the room, jolting Link awake. At some point, they’d shifted, situated themselves together, stretching across the length of the couch in their sleep, Rhett’s feet hanging off the end. Link started to sit up, to move away, but Rhett looked peaceful, his arm still around Link. The last thing Link wanted to was to wake him, so he settled back down and placed his head back on Rhett’s shoulder where it had been. Within minutes, Rhett started to stir, blinking his eyes in confusion--  _ why am I in the living room? _ \-- until he remembered how, hours before, Link had screamed in the night. He took the palm of his hand, smoothing down Link’s hair, and Link shifted against him.

“We overslept,” Link mumbled. “Should we go check the traps?” He still hadn’t moved away from Rhett, hadn’t tried to put distance between them. In this moment, it wasn’t desire that drew them closer, but the comfort of being near each other, and Link wasn’t afraid.

“No, it’ll be too late. Crabbers from off-island probably beat me to it. I’ve got another plan.” Rhett hated to move, but thought it might be worth it with what he had in mind. He pushed off the couch to stand.

“What’s your plan?” Link asked. Rhett didn’t answer, just turned and smiled. He heard the shower turn on, and curled up on the couch, letting himself drift off for a few more minutes. When Rhett returned, freshly showered and fully dressed, he found Link asleep on the couch. He wanted to let Link sleep, but the better part of him knew that Link would be disappointed if he did. He walked to the kitchen and fished money out of the cookie jar on the fridge, then nudged Link awake gently.

“Go shower. I’m leaving in twenty minutes, with or without you.” He had a wide grin, and because of it, Link knew there wasn’t a chance in hell Rhett would actually leave him, but he did as Rhett asked, showering quickly and tugging on the clothes Rhett left on the sink counter. He didn’t mind borrowing Rhett’s clothes at the moment, and Rhett didn’t seem to mind, either, always making sure to pull two sets from his closet each morning, one for him and one for Link. It worked for now.

When he walked downstairs, the house was empty.  _ Did he actually leave?  _ But when he wandered outside, Rhett was sitting on the tailgate of the truck waiting, his legs swinging below him.

“Told you I was leaving if you weren’t ready.”

“Come on, that wasn’t twenty minutes. It was eighteen, tops, and anyway, you’re still here.” Link laughed, sliding into the passenger side of the truck. Rhett followed behind, climbing into the driver’s side and driving Link to a part of the island he’d never managed to see. Nothing on the island was far away from any other part of the island, the small stretch of it one of the things that appealed to the locals who called it home, but Link marveled at the fact that he’d never wandered in this direction, despite all of his walking.

They walked inside a building bearing the sign “Lighthouse Bakery,” surrounded by the smells of cinnamon and baking bread, coffee and sweets. Rhett couldn’t remember ever going into the bakery, not since he’d first arrived and gone to apply for a job there before he discovered crabbing.

“Can I get four cinnamon rolls and two large mochas to go, please?” Rhett ordered for both of them, watching as they packaged the food and made the mochas in front of them. The cinnamon rolls were impossibly large, and Link couldn’t imagine eating two in a sitting, but he knew Rhett planned ahead, often eating a few tamales and saving the rest for later, so he figured Rhett was doing the same with the cinnamon rolls. He also knew Rhett wasn’t one to spend money without good reason, and it made him wonder what had triggered a sudden change of heart to make Rhett bring him here. Rhett walked to the truck, order in hand, without a word. Link studied his face for any sign of what he might be thinking. Rhett drove east, pulling into the parking lot near the ferry and sitting at the exact table Link had been sleeping on when the police found him and took him to Rhett’s.

“Can we talk?” Rhett started, passing Link a mocha and a cinnamon roll. He picked at his own cinnamon roll, which wasn’t like him. He usually devoured food, never picking at it.

“Okay, about what?” Link’s eyes reflected the water and the blue sky of the mid-morning, and Rhett couldn’t help but stare at them.

“The dreams. I feel… I feel so bad you have them, and I feel helpless. Can you tell me about them? If you want to?”

Link closed his eyes and his face tensed. Rhett wondered if he’d been wrong to ask. Before he could tell Link nevermind, tell him to forget it, that he didn’t need or want to know after all, Link started to speak.

“At first everything’s dark. Like, like a deep, dark place I can’t get out of. There’s screaming… so much screaming, and before long, something’s clawing at me. It’s something I can’t see because it’s always so dark.” Link’s breath quickened as he described what he saw in his dreams, his eyes still clenched tight, closed to the outside world. “I… things… it gets lighter after that, but not in the good way, in a red, dark, messed-up kind of way. There are waves… waves that crash on me, but they’re not water, they’re blood. And there’s sand, but it’s not like regular sand, it’s like glass. Every time the water crashes, it’s more screaming, all I ever hear is screaming.” As Link told his story, he started to shake again, like he had while dreaming. Rhett took his hand, smoothing his thumb over Link’s gently, grounding him to help him remember that he wasn’t dreaming, he was right there. “There’s so much screaming I can’t make out words. There  _ are  _ words, they just overlap so much I can’t make them out. I know they’re trying to tell me something, at least I think they are, but the words won’t untangle enough for me to understand.” Tears poured down Link’s face now, and he forced his eyes open, blinking in the bright light and trying to adjust, to forget. Link used his free hand to wipe the tears away quickly, and Rhett gave his other hand a small squeeze before letting go. He went back to picking at his cinnamon roll. Link followed suit, starting at the edge of the roll and working his way toward the center.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Rhett wanted to fix it, felt a desperate need to make it better, to somehow take it away from Link, stop him from enduring it alone.

“No, not really. But… this morning, it… it helped. I know I’ve got you in a really shitty place right now, telling you to leave me alone and then sleeping with you on the couch. I… I don’t want to do that if it messes things up for you, hurts you…” Link took a deep breath. “But that’s the truth, I don’t know anything else that makes it stop.”

“Okay. If it makes it better… okay. When you want me to be close, I’ll be close. When you don’t, I’ll back off. Whatever you need, tell me, I’ll do it.” Rhett offered everything, put all of his cards down on the table. He knew he was making a mistake, setting himself up for pain, but if that was what it took to make it better for Link, he had to do it. It didn’t matter how many times Link pushed him away. He knew if Link needed him, he’d be there. Even if his heart got trampled in the process, he’d be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Wednesday. Come find me on [tumblr](linkslipssinkships.tumblr.com) for a sneak preview of the next chapter on Saturday!
> 
> Shoutout to @mythicanimal and @mythical-trash who were kind enough to beta read this for me.


	13. Unprepared

Link didn’t have a clue that Rhett owned a radio until he pulled it out of a high cabinet over the refrigerator. He tuned it to a weather station, listening carefully to the report. The look on his face was strained and serious. Rhett took out a pad of paper, scribbling a list. Straining to see the list from across the counter, Link found himself shaking. He couldn’t make out Rhett’s messy scrawl on the page, but the way Rhett was standing, the look on his face, it didn’t feel right.

Rhett’s mood had started light that morning, after he’d untangled himself from Link. He’d been sitting next to him on the couch, rubbing his back after another bad dream, these moments the only point of contact they’d had after their conversation over cinnamon rolls the previous week. As he pulled the traps out, Link carefully laid the ice packs on them. Rhett noted the waves were choppier than usual, and he struggled more pulling the traps up. He didn’t seem particularly concerned, though, until Danny mentioned the coming hurricane when they’d stopped at Miguel’s. Rhett slipped into no-nonsense mode after that, hurrying to sell the remaining crabs and rushing home immediately after, where they had the radio out to listen. Without a television to check, Rhett relied on looking outside to check the weather, or gathering information from his interactions with people he sold crabs to for particularly bad news. He had the weather radio, but he preferred only using it for emergencies.

Link had no idea what Rhett’s plan was, or how to prepare for a hurricane at all. He couldn’t remember ever having been through one, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t. It just meant he didn’t recall.

“What do you need me to do?” Link offered, trying to snap Rhett out of his thoughts, the way he was in his own head as he made a list. He was just preparing, not talking, and Link felt useless, helpless. He wondered for a moment if this is what Rhett meant by the helplessness he felt when Link was having nightmares, the desire to help without the knowledge of what, if anything, could be done. It seemed like Rhett didn’t feel like he had time to tell Link what to do or how to prepare, and it’s what led to him kind of steamrolling past Link, all preparation and no conversation, no time spent filling Link in. It was overwhelming to say the least.

“We’re going to get gas and get ready, grab sandbags, wood, all that stuff to get the house ready at the hardware store. We’ll go to the grocery store, too. When the power goes out, we won’t be able to use the dried beans and rice until it comes back, so we’ve got to get some canned stuff,” Rhett rushed the words out, his tone tense but unshaken, like he wasn’t scared but needed to convey as much as possible in a short amount of time.

“When?” Link asked hesitantly. Rhett said the word like it was an inevitability instead of a possibility.

“When. This half of the island, it’s always going to go out during a hurricane. It’s not a matter of if. It will go out, and we need to be ready for it.”

Link swallowed hard at what Rhett had just said, his stomach a bundle of nerves. It was a lot to process. He and Rhett were careful around each other, keeping their distance outside of nightmares. They’d sit and read on opposite sides of the room, staying away from possibilities for close contact. But Link was visibly shaking, worked up over the radio saying things like “category three” and indicating the damage that was possible with the storm. Rhett couldn’t help but reach out, pat Link’s arm gently. He wanted desperately to pull him into a hug, reassure him that it would all be okay, but he settled for the arm pat, hoping that it wouldn’t upset the balance they’d worked out.

“I’ve been through this a few times, man. We just have to prepare for it, and we’ll be fine. Let’s go.” Before Link could respond to the reassuring words Rhett had offered, Rhett was grabbing his keys and heading out the door. Link followed quickly behind, trying to keep up, and also to mentally prepare for whatever was coming next.

At the hardware store, Rhett read off the items they needed, carefully checking them off as they found them. Link looked for each item, and they were thankful that most of the large items, the ones everyone needed, were still in stock. The store pulled things to the middle of the aisles in an effort to make it all easy to find. People crowded around the sandbags, and Rhett was thankful they’d made it early enough to get there before it was gone. If they didn’t hurry, Rhett worried the grocery store would be cleared out before they could get there, so he tried lifting the bags quickly, his strength from crab traps paying off.

“Why do we need sandbags? Your house is, y’know, raised up on those stilts.” Link lifted sandbags onto the flat slower than Rhett did, lacking the strength he had, but helping nonetheless.

“My truck doesn’t have stilts. We’ll make a barrier around the truck, the shower, anything on the ground still.” Rhett explained it all like it was obvious, like anyone should know this, but his voice was more tired than exasperated. The thought of preparing for the hurricane and the lack of sleep from comforting Link weighed on him. Link was too worried, too keyed-up, to be exhausted at all.

They piled plywood and screws into the cart, nails and duct tape, anything they’d need to keep the water out and the windows from shattering. The line to check out was long, and Rhett shifted back and forth on his feet. He counted the people in front of them, six, six people away from the register still.

“It’s all gonna be gone, man,” Rhett stressed.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Link said, placing his hand on Rhett’s arm for just a moment, then pulling it away quickly. How he’d become the voice of calm in this, he wasn’t sure, not when he felt like he might throw up from worry.

In the trips they’d made to the grocery store previously, they’d lingered, made an event of grocery shopping and wandering the aisles while chatting. They didn’t have anywhere to be, and Rhett didn’t mind lingering in the store if Link was by his side. This wasn’t like that, though. This time, Rhett was a man on a mission, grabbing dozens of cans of beans and vegetables, handfuls of canned ravioli, which Link couldn’t recall ever eating. Rhett piled boxes of snack cakes into the cart, too, at least a dozen of them.

“Need another box or five there? I don’t think you grabbed quite enough.” Link laughed and held up a box from the cart, oatmeal pies.

“Nervous eater,” Rhett shrugged, grabbing a few more boxes and dropping them into the cart before pushing ahead. “We need food we can get without heating. Power could take a few days to come back once it’s gone.”

Link nodded, trying to think of shelf-stable foods that didn’t require heat to consume.

“Peanut butter? Cereal?” he offered, recalling their first trip to the store a few weeks prior. Rhett navigated to the cereal aisle, grabbing a bag of off-brand cereal. Link ran his fingers along the bags as they walked.

“You can pick one, too, y’know. I just grabbed my favorite, but I don’t know what kind you like.”

“I don’t know what kind I like, either,” Link mumbled, but grabbed something that looked like it had a lot of sugar. He put it in the cart on top of Rhett’s and tugged the cart along behind him. When they got to the peanut butter aisle, there wasn’t a single jar of it left on the shelves.

“Dammit,” Rhett cursed quietly.

“Hey,” Link rested his hand on Rhett’s back for a second, then realized what he was doing and jerked away again, the second time that day he’d touched Rhett without stopping himself. “It was just a suggestion. We don’t need peanut butter, not really.” Rhett nodded, then walked to the produce aisle, acting like he hadn’t felt Link’s hand.

“Let’s get bananas so we don’t die from lack of nutrients, at least.” In a first for the store, most of the checkout lanes were open, and Rhett was thankful not to have to wait too long to check out. That way, they’d be able to get home before the winds picked up.

When they reached the house, Rhett tossed sandbags along the front and sides of the truck, effectively mapping out a parking space. He left the area behind the truck clear in case they needed to go somewhere before the storm hit, telling Link the plan to add the last of the bags when it was time. The storm was due the following day, so they worked quickly, trying to get as much done in as little time as possible. Rhett pulled the traps from the water and freed the crabs caught inside, slipping them back into the water. He knew that he didn’t have the time to sell them, and he couldn’t keep them cold inside if the power went out.

“Today’s your lucky day, ladies and gentleman,” Rhett told the last of the crabs. Link helped him gather the traps, storing them in the storage room under the house. They placed sandbags near the base of the doorway and the bathroom, piling them a few bags high to keep the water out.

Link watched as Rhett took duct tape and placed it on the inside of each window, making a large X across them. He repeated the steps outside, as well, then screwed a board over each window on the lower floor. Rhett told Link how many screws to put in, told him how to hold the boards. Everything was in place on the back of the house as they boarded the back door, leaving the house darker and darker with each board they added. The front door stayed open, untouched, and Rhett said they’d deal with it before they went to bed, that they’d slide it in place and pray it would stay.

Rhett listened closely to the radio, preparing everything he could inside. Link placed the cans someplace easy to find when the power went out, as Rhett double-checked the flashlights and put new batteries in any that seemed dim. As the storm approached, the radio made it clear they couldn’t be certain if it would stay a category three or increase to a four, and they reminded everyone in beachfront homes to evacuate. Link’s eyebrows shot up, and his voice caught in his throat before he could form words. Rhett glanced up at the sound of Link dropping a can on the floor.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve lived through a category four once in this house, and I’ll do it again.” His words were reassuring, but his voice was not, and his body was completely tense. “I’ll be back. I forgot something at the store, but I’m going to run to the Ship’n’Shore to buy it. Stay here and board up the windows in my room. Ladder’s on the front deck so you can get down after.” Rhett would help Link with the last window, the hard-to-reach one upstairs on the front of the house, when he returned.

“Board the windows, got it.” Link wasn’t sure he had it, but he’d watched and helped as Rhett did the other windows. He couldn’t imagine it being that hard. The balcony made it easy enough, too, allowing Link to position the ladder, then bring the boards up through Rhett’s room, through the balcony door. He taped the windows, then screwed the boards on, just like Rhett had shown him downstairs. There was no going back inside through the door once it was secured, so he grabbed the power screwdriver and tucked it into the front of his pants, climbing down the ladder carefully in the heavy winds.

Rhett still wasn’t home, and Link didn’t want to wait for the last window. He carried the ladder carefully, resting it against the front of the house. Link wasn’t quite sure how he’d carry the plywood up the ladder, but he figured if he could get it taped before Rhett returned, they’d finish it together. It amazed him that Rhett would forget anything at the store, his list careful and his experience with hurricanes making him far more prepared than Link would ever be. But after the tape, Link resigned himself to the thought of boarding the front window by himself.

He tried sliding the heavy board up the ladder as he climbed, resting it against his knees as he took careful steps up. The first time, it slid down the ladder, digging into his shin with a rough scrape. Link tried again, his leg stinging with each step. He could feel the blood running down his leg, and he forced himself not to look, not to think about it, to focus on getting the board up the ladder, but he felt faint, dizzy. Link pushed the thought out of his mind, placing the plywood against the smallest window of the house. He thanked everything in the universe that the window was smaller, that he didn’t have to try hauling a second piece of plywood up after this. He finished, then climbed down and sat at the bottom of the ladder, leaning against the house and propping his leg on the bottom rung as he tried to inspect the depth of his wound. His head was spinning, and before he knew it, his vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @mythical-trash and @mythicanimal for beta reading this chapter!


	14. Onslaught

Rhett walked up the front steps of the house, taking them slowly, body sore after putting the last of the sandbags behind his truck and from their hurricane preparation earlier. But then he spotted Link lying on the deck, one leg draped on the lower rung of the ladder, dripping with thick, red blood. He dropped the bag he held where he was and ran to Link’s side, shaking him.

“What happened?”

Link blinked awake, trying to remember how he’d gotten there, then realizing he’d passed out from the sight of his own blood.

“I don’t know, I was looking at my leg and got lightheaded and everything went black.”

“But you didn’t fall off the ladder?” Rhett’s main concern was a head injury, a broken something or other, to the point that he didn’t realize Link hadn’t answered the question he was  _ really  _ asking-- how did this happen in the first place?

“I was just sitting here and I fainted, I’m pretty sure.” The fact that Link wasn’t completely sure, that he only  _ thought  _ that was what happened, worried Rhett even more. He looked at Link’s leg. Most of the cut looked superficial enough, more of a scrape that covered a large patch of his leg than an actual cut, but a good part of it looked deep enough that it might need medical attention.  _ Dammit _ .

“Okay, let me grab the stuff I bought and get you inside,” Rhett said. Rhett started for the things and Link hobbled inside on his own, not listening to Rhett’s offer to help him in. He tried not to look at his leg. When Rhett made it inside, Link was standing there in the living room, staring blankly at the wall. He still seemed shell-shocked, nervous and dizzy. Clearly, Link didn’t handle blood well.

Rhett placed the bag on the counter, patting the empty space next to it with his hand.

“Come here, hop up on the counter so I can get a better look.”

Link crossed the room and did what Rhett had instructed, sitting on the counter like he’d been asked to. It felt weird at first, like he was a child with a watchful parent tending to a skinned knee. In reality, it was the only way that Rhett could get a good look at it without kneeling down. Rhett held Link’s leg with one strong hand, then used the other to blot the blood with a clean, damp kitchen rag. Link winced with each touch, gritting his teeth at the way it stung.

“Sorry,” Rhett mumbled, continuing to wash away the dried blood. It was just as he thought, most of the wound a large scrape that wasn’t concerning in the slightest. But the part that was deeper was a lot worse, where the corner of the plywood had torn through Link’s skin. Rhett didn’t think it looked deep enough for stitches, but it didn’t look good, and fresh blood pooled in the deepest parts where Rhett had wiped the blood that had started to scab over away. Link buried his head in his hands, trying hard not to look or to think about how the blood felt. “God, Link, I’m so sorry. I should have been here. You shouldn’t have done the front by yourself, tried to get that plywood up alone.” Rhett had done it alone before, but he was more accustomed to it, and his wingspan was longer. He’d only meant for Link to do the back, and now he felt guilty for not making that clearer.

“It’s okay. Seriously, I’m sure I’ll be fine. And now it’s boarded, so we don’t need to do that, it’s done.” Link flinched, gritting his teeth as Rhett removed the cloth and inspected the wound to make sure it was clean.

“Stay here.” Rhett didn’t go far, simply walking to the same cabinet he’d pulled the radio from, grabbing a first aid kit. He put antiseptic cream on the cut, then wrapped Link’s leg in a bandage long enough to cover the scrape and let it heal. “All better?” The genuine concern in Rhett’s eyes got to Link, and he didn’t miss the fact that Rhett’s hand was still on his leg. Link nodded, and despite feeling faint, he offered up a small smile.

“I got you something,” Rhett suddenly remembered, pulling a jar of peanut butter out of the bag. “They were out of bread. Sorry.” Rhett had tried to get jelly and bread from the Ship’n’Shore, too, but he wasn’t the first one with the idea. The island-based general store charged insanely high prices, much higher than anything on the mainland, and he’d questioned his sanity as he considered paying ten dollars for a jar of peanut butter when he was in the store, but seeing Link’s face light up and feeling guilt for not being there when Link got hurt made it worth every penny now.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Link’s mouth watered. He wasn’t sure why he’d been thinking about peanut butter so much, why he wanted it so badly. He hadn’t eaten it since he’d woken up on the beach, and he wondered if his desire for it was a remnant of his past, if it was a clue to who he was before he was Link. “You didn’t have to get this.”

“I just thought it might be something else to get us through the hurricane,” Rhett shrugged. He tried to play it off like it was no big deal, like he hadn’t just spent half a week’s worth of food budget on a jar of peanut butter, his rice and beans usually keeping him fed at just a couple of dollars a day. He said it like he hadn’t considered the fact that, if he wasn’t hopelessly falling for Link, he never would have spent that much on a single food item, wouldn’t be adding new variety to the foods he always ate just because Link wanted something different. He’d changed most of his grocery list even before the hurricane to make Link happy, so spending ten dollars on a jar of peanut butter during a hurricane price hike didn’t seem completely out of the question if Rhett was completely honest with himself.

Link could tell it was a bigger deal than Rhett was letting on, saw how carefully Rhett watched every dime, keeping their grocery budget tight. By the way they’d avoided the Ship’n’Shore, driven past it several times, Link knew it had to be expensive, and Rhett had told him as much when they’d first traveled off the island for groceries together. He knew Rhett likely spent far more on a single jar of peanut butter than he did on any other food item, and he was grateful. Rhett passed Link pain reliever, and he took it with a glass of water.

“I’m going to put the ladder away. Winds are already starting to pick up, or they were when I was driving,” Rhett said. He reached a hand out to help Link down from the counter.

“Yeah, they were pretty bad when I was trying to get the boards up.” Link’s hands were shaking. “When do you think it’ll hit?”

“The guys at the Ship’n’Shore said around eight in the morning. Check the radio while I put the ladder away.” It was Rhett’s way of telling Link to stay in, to sit down and take it easy after he’d hurt his leg. Rhett didn’t want Link to get hurt again, and he worried that the ladder in the strong winds might be too much for Link since he wasn’t as experienced with it.

Link did as he was instructed, turning on the radio and carrying it to the couch with him. He propped his leg onto the couch beside him, the sting now replaced with a dull ache. He fiddled with the volume, trying to hear better, and caught the tail end of a forecast before the commercial. The island was looking to get hit head-on with the category three storm, and fear bubbled in Link’s throat. He wondered what it would be like, how he’d handle it, if the house would hold up okay. He knew they’d prepared everything as well as they could, but he worried regardless.

Rhett came inside, sliding the board for the front door in place behind him, in a groove he’d specifically built for it. He took the drill, screwing the board into place, into the section of the groove on the other side of it. It was the best way to board themselves in from the inside, to keep them from dealing with broken glass in the living room. It was especially important to Rhett that the living room stayed secure, since Link was sleeping in there each night.

“Looks like we’re all set. I can turn the power and water off from the inside if I need to,” Rhett said. Link wasn’t listening, though, instead focused on a single word the radio had said.

“Rhett, is it true that we should have evacuated?”

“I’ve made it through a Cat4 storm here before, and I’ve been fine. Listen, I don’t have anywhere to evacuate to, and I’d honestly prefer to stay with the house. I’d say I could find you someone to evacuate with, but…” Rhett let himself trail off, catching himself just before telling Link he wanted him to stay, wanted him here so they could ride this out together.

“But they’ve pretty much all left if they’re planning to?” Link filled in the blanks with the wrong answer.

“Yeah,” Rhett was willing to let him believe that. It wasn’t a stretch from the truth anyway. Most of the island that would evacuate already had, tourists going home before the storm, locals leaving the island to visit relatives if they could. Anyone who was the type to evacuate did it before the strong winds were on their doorstep.

Rhett prepared the beans and rice the usual way, from bags, knowing that the following day they’d be eating out of cans with the electricity out. The house was darker than usual with the windows that brought in sunlight boarded shut to a blackening state. They had electricity, though, the overhead lights and side table lamps turned on to keep things bright.

After dinner, Rhett placed a flashlight in each room, a few extras in the rooms they used most. He put a lantern in the upstairs and downstairs bathrooms to give off extra light, and he filled each bathtub with water in case they’d need it. He placed an array of candles around the house, too, just in case they ran low on batteries at some point during the storm.

They were as prepared as they could possibly get, and that evening, with nothing more to do, they sat in their respective sides of the room and read like they always did. The wind started to whistle, not too loud or overwhelming at first, just constant enough that Link could feel the dread creeping up his spine.

“What’s it like? Riding the storm out, I mean?” Link’s voice shook as he closed his book and lowered it onto his lap. “This is just the beginning, right?” He felt childish for asking what was an obvious question, but he needed to know, and Rhett didn’t laugh at him over it. He calmly closed his own book and set it aside, wanting to reassure Link, but also wanting to be honest with him.

“This is the lightest part of it. It’s probably tropical storm force right now, not much stronger than what we get from time to time, but more constant. It’ll get stronger and louder, probably while we’re sleeping. Storms like this, they’re bad but they’re not horrible. We’ll have damage, but I doubt it’ll be structural. And there’s also a chance  _ the-bridge-could-go-out _ ,” Rhett rushed the last sentence out in hopes Link would focus on the first part of what he’d said and not hear the end of it.

The bridge was one of the few ways to get off of the island. The ferry had a limited schedule that ended in the evening. If the bridge went out, it would mean working their lives around the ferry schedule. He thanked his lucky stars that they rarely left the island outside of grocery trips, but if it went out, it would still be a problem for Rhett. No bridge meant fewer tourists. Fewer tourists meant Rhett’s crabbing business would take a hit. It would end his season a month too soon, at least.

“What about the crabs? If the bridge goes out, I mean?” Link questioned the very concern that Rhett had been pondering, praying Rhett could reassure him without realizing Rhett was worried about it, too.

"Hey, it’s fine. That’s why we plan ahead and eat beans and rice, y’know? We might have stuff we have to fix on the house after the storm, or deal with less money coming in if the bridge goes out, but it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. We’ve been doing good lately.” Rhett could see the fear written on Link’s face. He tried not to let his own worry show. He made it by okay alone, but trying to feed Link, too, make sure he had what he needed when he couldn’t bring in any income of his own, he wondered how much faster he’d go through the money he had stashed away.

Rhett wanted Link to feel okay, to feel safe. He wanted to reassure Link that if he truly felt like there was danger in staying, they would have left. Rhett was crazy enough to try to stay in the house even if they made evacuation mandatory, but he wasn’t about to do it if it put Link in danger when Link had never been through a storm like that, not that he could recall at least.

“Okay. If you say we’re fine, I trust you.” Link did trust him, too. He’d been through the storm before and he had to know what he was talking about. When Rhett retired for the night, Link clung to that, reminding himself that he didn’t think Rhett would put them in danger if he could help it. He truly believed it as he squeezed his eyes shut, wrapped under blankets. He tried to sleep, but the howling wind had other ideas, transitioning from a dull swish to a higher-pitched whistle, as if it were playing the stilts that held the house up like a harmonica. Link tossed and turned for what felt like an hour, two hours. He tried to relax his mind, but found himself starting to panic.

The house creaked from the inside, too, and he found himself wondering it was stable, if it would hold or collapse on itself with them inside. He sat up on the couch, knowing that trying for sleep wasn’t working, and he tugged the blanket around himself tightly.

“Link?” Rhett whispered into the darkness as he saw Link sit up. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry…” he apologized before Link could even reply.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.” Link sighed into the darkness. Rhett flipped the light switch on the wall now that he knew Link was awake, and the light clicked on without hesitation. They still had electricity, for now. Rhett turned the radio on, making sure it was still tuned to the right station before making a pot of coffee. He knew it was likely their last pot before the power went out, so he filled it as full as possible, fully prepared to drink it cold if he had to. He fished out two mugs, filling them as the broadcast explained they were now catching the outer edge of the hurricane, the worst of it still a few hours away.

Link kept the blanket wrapped around himself, letting it fall like a cape and puddle on the floor behind him. He walked into the kitchen to join Rhett, picking up his mug off of the counter. He wasn’t cold, not exactly, but the howling wind and the sound of rain bit through him, making him feel colder than he was. Rhett sipped at the coffee in his own mug, his large hands wrapped around the cup, and Link looked at the way Rhett blew the steam away before taking a sip, saw the way Rhett’s hair fell messily on his forehead. Rhett’s eyes locked on Link’s, and in spite of everything, the doubts he’d held onto for so long, Link realized something. Maybe he did have a life back wherever he came from, but for right now, right here in this kitchen with Rhett, Link was  _ home _ .

It hit him suddenly, harder than the heavy winds outside, that he no longer needed to keep thinking about this, to keep considering what his old life was like and how it might change things. He knew what he wanted, what he needed. All of the doubts he’d had, they were valid and they made sense, but stronger than that was the argument Rhett had made.  _ What if I never remember who I am, and what if I wasted all of this time I could have had with Rhett? _

“Hey Rhett?”

“What’s up? Nervous about the storm?” Rhett could feel the quiver in Link’s voice, saw the tension and nerves building in his face. It was the same look Link wore when he woke up from countless nightmares, the one Rhett saw every time he sat by his side and held his hand to help him get through the demons he saw in his dreams.

“No. Yes, but… that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.” Link looked at the floor between them, his eyes tracing the wood flooring that connected them to each other.

“What is it?” Rhett raised an eyebrow, wondering what Link was trying so hard to say.

“I just… I… uh… I wanted to say thank you.” He took a deep breath. “For the peanut butter. For my leg. I don’t think I said thanks earlier.” For as easily as Link spoke to everyone they sold crabs to, for as carefree as he seemed when he talked to people, his voice cracked around Rhett. He held tension in his jaw and shoulders. Rhett wondered what it was about him that made Link feel so uneasy, if it was who he was or how they’d pushed each other away.

“You told me, don’t worry.” Rhett was certain Link had thanked him at least two, three times since he’d wrapped the bandage around his leg, since he’d handed him the peanut butter. There was something else he wanted to say, something other than thank you, and Rhett could tell Link was holding himself back. He wanted to know what Link was leaving unsaid, so he pushed. “Everything okay?”

Link looked up at Rhett again, prying his eyes from the floor he was fixated on. He wondered how he might gather the courage to tell Rhett what was on his mind, to let him know he changed his mind. He wanted to tell Rhett everything, that he wanted to live fully in what was right in front of him instead of worrying, wondering about what he’d forgotten. He wondered if it was too late, if he’d missed his chance with Rhett. Perhaps Rhett was just letting him stay because he felt sorry for him. Link’s lips parted as if he meant to speak, but his voice wouldn’t follow. He couldn’t find words for everything he needed to say, so he placed his mug on the counter.

Rhett wasn’t sure why he did the same, followed suit and set his mug down as Link placed his on the counter, but he did. Rhett saw Link’s face fade through a variety of emotions in what seemed like just a second-- loving softness, worry, fear, even sorrow. Rhett wanted to step forward and hug Link, tell him that he could say anything he wanted or needed to. But Rhett worried if he moved, or even so much as flinched, that he’d scare Link away. There was something fragile hanging between them, lingering in the air, and Rhett worried it might break, ending the moment before Link would even acknowledge it.

Link took a step forward, then another, until he was inches from Rhett. Both of them were completely in each other’s space, and neither of them tried to move, to duck away. Link was giving Rhett an option if he needed it, a chance to duck away, move to the side and walk off if he wanted. But his expression, Link’s face shifted, the nerves melting away. Instead, they were replaced by a look of sheer determination. It was as if Link was now asking permission, practically begging Rhett to let him lean in and close the last few inches that remained between them.

Rhett ducked his head just enough to put them level, to convey the message that yes, this was okay, but that it had to be Link to make the final move. Rhett wasn’t closing that gap knowing how things had ended the last two times they’d started this delicate  _ thing _ .

Something was different about this time, though. In their first moment together, it had been about desperation, a shared need, Rhett’s need to be with someone and Link’s need to act on how attractive he found Rhett. The first time was sparked by lust, by pure, raw sexual energy. Their second moment together was playful, softer, spurred on by flirtation and by the way the water changed something in them, if only for a moment. Once they’d dried off, Link had changed his mind, and they’d gone back to the distance between them. But this was different, comfortable and familiar, no longer a need but a want, a longing for each other on a different level. It wasn’t laced with sexual tension now, instead dripping with emotion, with trust.

In the time they’d spent together, something had changed. The way Link’s chest rose and fell with his breath, Rhett could tell he wasn’t scared anymore.

“It’s okay,” Rhett whispered into the small space between them, his voice barely audible over the whistle of the wind and the pounding rain. If Link hadn’t felt the breath from the words on his lips, from them being so close, he would have assumed he imagined them, but he didn’t just hear the words, he felt them, and he had all the reassurance he needed to lean in.

Their lips grazed, barely brushing, like if he gave into the first touch, Rhett could still decide if he wanted to pull away. But Rhett leaned into it, letting his arm slip around Link’s waist underneath the blanket, pulling him closer. Link’s hand went to Rhett’s hair, combing through it. They took their time, no need for the frenzy they’d pushed through before, and it wasn’t desperate and bruising like it had once been. Instead, these soft, slow kisses carried the weight of inevitability, the thought that this was exactly what was supposed to happen, how it was supposed to be, and that they could take their time because they  _ had  _ the time. Rhett’s lips parted as he held Link closer, and Link gave in, melted to the touch. The lights flickered, then went out completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoiler this Saturday since I'll be away for the weekend. But look for the full new chapter next Wednesday! Thanks so much to mythical-trash and mythicanimal for beta reading for me.


	15. Storm

Both of them noticed the sudden darkness, their eyes fluttering open to confirm the power was gone, but neither of them cared beyond that. Neither of them moved to rush toward a candle or flashlight, to find light in the darkness, because the kisses they were sharing were light enough. They curled into each other, leaned together, continued their slow, steady stream of soft kisses that seemed to linger forever. Neither of them tried to push kisses past just that, kisses, instead standing there wrapped in Link’s blanket as Rhett traced his fingers along Link’s back. They savored the moment in the middle of the night, the subtle fragrance of the coffee lingering in the air. Their only soundtrack was the rain and wind, and the radio that still spouted weather updates.

There was warmth and comfort in the connection they shared. Link felt something stir in him, a sense that said  _ this is right _ . He knew, deep down, he wasn’t going to run this time, wasn’t going to push Rhett away like he’d done before. Not that he  _ could  _ run away with the hurricane raging beyond the boards that covered the windows and doors. But if he could run, he wouldn’t want to.

Link couldn’t imagine having ever been as certain of something in the same way he was sure about Rhett. He couldn’t imagine forgetting a feeling like this, have it disappear from his memory, and that was the kind of reassurance he needed that this was right. He believed in his soul that this was the first time-- ever, in his past or his current life-- that he’d felt something that shook him the way Rhett did, something that made him feel weak as it took away every ounce of fear he’d held within himself.

When they did part, they still made no attempt to find light or change their position. Instead, Link leaned his head against Rhett’s chest, his eyes closing as he listened to the beating of Rhett’s heart. Rhett’s arms folded around Link, holding him close, keeping him safe. Rhett had never felt more like he was meant to be right where he was. He wanted to be with Link. After years of keeping to himself, refusing to let anyone in, he’d found the one person he never wanted to be apart from.

Rhett’s back strained under the way he leaned back against the cabinet, and he’d held the same position for far too long. Soon, he had to move, to shift his body, which caused Link to move, too. Link took a step back, and in the darkness, his eyes could barely make out Rhett’s shape. He felt around Rhett for a flashlight, finding it and clicking it on as he passed it to Rhett. He took a sip of his coffee, still mostly warm. They savored their coffee this time, Rhett’s coffee improving under Link’s guidance. It no longer tasted like the jet fuel he’d made previously, but now had an actual sense of being coffee.

Neither of them seemed likely to sleep after the electric charge between them, but Rhett found himself yawning anyway. An offer lingered on his tongue and he wondered if he could ask, should ask. Link had been crashing on the couch for a month, and in this moment, Rhett didn’t feel like it was rushing things to invite Link up to his room. It wasn’t even meant to be a sexual offer, instead a desire to be close to Link, to make sure that if he had a nightmare, Rhett wouldn’t need to run downstairs in the dark, but could just hold him close in bed, rub his back until he calmed down.

“I… um. No pressure or anything, but… uh… like… we don’t have to… but…” Rhett started and stopped his sentence too many times for it not to be awkward, and he could see the smirk playing on Link’s lips as he tripped over his words. “Do you, um… do you want to…” Rhett bit his lip, pausing, trying to find the right words before opening his mouth again. Link reached out a hand and rested it on Rhett’s arm.

“I’m having trouble sleeping on the couch the way the wind is making that noise.” Link offered it up, practically reading Rhett’s mind and extending the branch Rhett needed to spit out the words. He wasn’t psychic. He’d simply seen the way Rhett’s eyes kept darting to the staircase, then back to Link, then back to the staircase. It was obvious what Rhett was really trying to get at.

“Do you want to crash in my room tonight?” Rhett mumbled.

“Yeah, okay. That would be nice.” Link let Rhett step around him, to take the stairs first. He followed close behind, his blanket still trailing him.

Rhett lowered himself onto the bed, and Link took the empty space beside him, positioning his blanket to cover both of them. For a long while, they faced each other, Rhett running his fingers through Link’s longer hair, Link tracing Rhett’s shoulder and arm with his fingertips. They both laid there in silence, their breaths drowned out by the pouring rain. It seemed to get harder and Link wondered what part of the storm they were in, how bad it was getting. Rhett came closer, kissing Link softly. They’d left the radio downstairs, instead focusing on their close proximity, the way they held each other in the dark. Link rolled over onto his back, and Rhett placed his hand on Link’s chest, his head next to Link’s shoulder. Once in awhile, Link would turn his head, steal a kiss. He could feel the tickle of Rhett’s beard on his neck, the softness of his breath, and he could sense when Rhett’s breathing shifted to soft, light breaths. It was clear he’d fallen asleep. In the darkness, Link closed his eyes, and for the first time in days, he had a night without a nightmare.

Well after the sun would have risen, hours after they would have typically woken up to check the crab traps, the two continued sleeping soundly. With all of the light from the outside blacked out from boarded windows, it was easy to lose track of time, to continue holding each other close, sleeping bodies entwined in bed. They were a mess of sheets and blankets, limbs and pillows, the rain still pouring outside.

Neither of them even stirred until they heard the sound of shattering glass and jolted awake. Link sat upright as Rhett pulled himself from the bed. It was too dark in his room to be the windows or doors there, so he prepared himself for the lower floor to be wrecked with glass. Link grabbed a flashlight from the bedside table, stepping out of the bed and standing behind Rhett.

As Rhett yanked open the door, before he could even take a step out of the room, he saw a sliver of light coming from underneath the doorway of the empty upstairs room opposite his own. Rhett opened the door and instantly felt gusts of wind coming in through the window, feeling the mist of rain across the room. “Fuck!” He yanked the door closed again.

“Oh gosh,” Link gasped. “I’m so sorry.” Link had boarded the window, and somehow it came unboarded. He wasn’t quite sure how, but it was his responsibility, his fault that the window had broken.

“Just go get the tarps. And put shoes on!” Rhett snapped. It wasn’t out of anger, instead out of a need to move quickly, to get the window covered before it could get any worse. If there was anger, they’d deal with it later.

“Tarps?”

“In the closet downstairs!”

Link ran down the stairs, pulling his shoes on and returning with a tarp and duct tape. They carefully crossed the floor, dodging as much glass as they could, noticing jagged edges still intact and the loud roar of wind. Rain spattered their faces as they struggled to hold the tarp against the wall. The board Link had screwed in to cover the window was hanging by a single screw now, shifting back and forth in the wind. Unless he was willing to risk a cut or risk falling out the window, there was no way for Rhett to get it, so he had no choice but to leave it and pray it didn’t cause any other damage.

Link held the edge of the tarp in place as Rhett taped it down, then held the other. As Rhett taped the opposite side, the first began to come undone, and Rhett realized they’d need nails first, tape after. It took a full hour to seal the opening shut, to make the rain stop pouring in the window.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t get it sealed up better. I don’t know why this one got all screwed up, I’m sorry,” Link apologized again and again.

“Tell me later.” Rhett gritted his teeth, trying to place the last of the tape. “Right now, let’s make sure the floor doesn’t get ruined.” Rhett placed buckets beneath the window to catch any leaks that might sneak through the tarp, which had been held taut, nailed, taped, and sealed as much as humanly possible. Rhett sighed and cursed more than a few times throughout the process, with Link apologizing again and again.

“I don’t think you got it into the studs,” Rhett said, closing the door behind them, the glass still littering the ground of the room. It was too cold and damp for them to want to clean it up until the storm had passed, so for now, they went with closing it and ignoring it, preferring to deal with it later.

“How do you know?” Link wondered if Rhett was an expert in analyzing his boarding process from the inside, if there was some sort of tell that made his error clear. Link wasn’t even sure what he’d done wrong, so he’d be amazed if Rhett knew at a glance.

“Is that the window you got hurt on? Because for one, you passed out right after, so I doubt your head was really clear on making sure you got it screwed in right.” Rhett rolled his eyes, but grinned right after, reaching the kitchen to pick up his half-full mug of coffee from hours before, now completely cold. He placed the rim of the mug to his lips and drained it without hesitation.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Link winced, his leg suddenly throbbing as he remembered how it had bled.

“Hop up on the counter, let’s change your bandage.” Rhett instructed Link with a pat on the counter, just like he’d done the day before, and Link climbed up, his feet dangling a few inches from the floor. Rhett carefully unwrapped it, trying to get a good look from the flashlights and candles around them, then smoothed more antibacterial ointment over it, taking note of how the deepest part was looking by propping a flashlight between his ear and shoulder, tilting his body to angle the light just right.

Rhett wrapped a clean stretch of bandages around Link’s leg. “Y’know, that’s how the window got broken the first time, too.” He glanced up at Link, meeting his eyes, an expression that said  _ yeah, you heard me right _ . “I didn’t get the board into the studs and it blew off. Window shattered. I’ve had to remind myself to get it into the studs every time since.”

Link smiled at first, happy to know he wasn’t the only one who had broken the window, then winced at the thought of replacing it, how the cost would eat into the money Rhett had carefully set aside for winter.

“I’m still sorry I broke it,” Link said quietly. By now, they’d adjusted to the sound of the rain and wind, so despite it pounding down harder than ever as the eyewall of the storm approached, it was easier to hear each other when they spoke softly.

“How do I get you to shut up and stop apologizing already?” Rhett asked, leaning closer to Link. A smile teased at his lips, his cheeks lifting over his beard as an idea formed.

“Mmm, I’m not sure,” Link said with a wink. “I bet if you think hard, you’ll figure something out.” That was enough to do it, propelling Rhett forward to cup Link’s chin in his hands, feeling the stubble of a morning without a good shave. The kiss was more passionate, deeper than the soft, inevitable connection they’d shared the night before. This one held teasing and longing, closeness they’d been begging for silently for awhile. Link hooked his uninjured leg around Rhett’s waist, using it to tug Rhett toward him further, and Rhett trailed kisses down his jaw and neck, soft whispers along his skin. Link wrapped his arms around Rhett, too, his hands kneading at Rhett’s shoulders and back, whimpers escaping from his lips.

“Rhett?” Link asked, not bothering to move away, just speaking the words against Rhett’s lips.

“Mm?” Rhett murmured in response.

“I’m not going to run this time.”

“I know.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Wednesday! Want a sneak peek? Visit [my tumblr](https://linkslipssinkships.tumblr.com) on Saturday for a short preview of the next chapter.


	16. Security

Link lit candles in the living room, trying to get them enough light to see by. The wind still howled beneath the floor. Rhett was upstairs getting blankets and pillows. They’d decided to stay downstairs, just in case Link hadn’t gotten the other windows boarded quite right, too. He was certain he’d done them correctly, certain it was the injury that caused the last window to go horribly wrong. It didn’t matter, though. There was an intimacy to the way the living room glowed in the candlelight, the way the flicker of the flame looked as it washed shadows and light over the books in the large bookshelves on the side of the room Rhett most often occupied. The room was warm, the light soft.

Upstairs Rhett took his time. He wanted to give Link time to think about this, to be sure. He didn’t want to rush into things just because Link had given him the go-ahead, as much as he wanted to. It had been hard enough to pull away from Link, to give them both the breath they needed to think things over as Link lit candles, as Rhett gathered blankets.

Rhett imagined it was somewhere near mid-afternoon, but he hadn’t bothered to look at a clock. They’d untangled themselves from kisses, decided a nap sounded good after they’d worked so hard to cover the window, but the way Link had suggested the word  _ nap _ , Rhett doubted they’d be sleeping. He wondered if he should be prepared for what could happen, what he knew they both wanted, but at the same time, he worried he shouldn’t presume, that maybe by nap, Link really had meant nap. He imagined he’d go downstairs, find Link sound asleep, snoring softly on the couch.

But he didn’t. He found Link sitting on the couch, reading a book by the light of the candles that flickered around the room. As soon as Link heard Rhett approaching, he set his book down, smiled up with a warmth in his eyes that Rhett had never seen before. Rhett would have thought it was just the candles playing tricks, the light making Link look different, warmer, softer, but he knew in his soul that something had changed. It wasn’t an immediate change, wasn’t one forced by the storm or by the way Rhett had bandaged Link’s leg. It was a soft change that had been coming over the past month, one that made it clear that no amount of delay that Rhett tried to cause, no taking his time gathering blankets, was going to change Link’s mind this time. He meant it when he said he wasn’t going to run. He meant every word, that right now, he was Rhett’s, and Rhett was his.

Rhett knew that any day, Link could wake up and remember who he was. He knew that it could be all over in an instant. But he also knew that he longed for the contact, the companionship he had in Link, and he knew there was something pure about this. He realized, looking at Link, sitting there surrounded by candles, that even if it were all over tomorrow, it would have been worth it, it would have been the right thing.

As he crossed to the middle of the room, dropped the blankets unceremoniously on the floor in a pile, Link stood and walked to him, wrapping his arms around Rhett. He kissed him, softly at first, then with a push of need. Link melted under Rhett’s touch, softened to the point that his knees were weak.

“Are you sure about this?” Rhett asked, knowing he was asking more than just one question with those words.

“I’ve never been more sure.” Link didn’t hesitate, didn’t miss a beat as he told Rhett the answer to every question he was asking in that moment. He was sure he wanted to be here. He was sure he wanted to be with Rhett. He was sure he wanted to do  _ this _ . He was sure that this was what he needed, and where he belonged. He was sure of so many things in that moment.

Rhett kissed Link again, then sank to his knees in front of him, sliding his hands down Link’s chest, letting his hands move around to his hips, his ass. He looked up into Link’s bright blue eyes and Link bent down, hands framing Rhett’s face as he kissed him softly. He started to move, to try to kneel, too, but Rhett’s strong hands held him in place, kept him upright as he slid the shorts Link had borrowed from him down his legs. Link stepped out of them, kicked them aside.

Rhett loved how Link wore his clothes, loved the way his clothes seemed to look better on Link, seemed to hang on him differently than when Rhett wore them, but right now, all he wanted was for Link to take the clothes off. Link slipped his shirt off over his head, then bent to tug at the hem of Rhett’s shirt, to pull it off of him, tossing it carefully away from the candles around them.

Rhett’s hands held tightly to Link’s thighs as he took him into his mouth, and he could feel the moan Link breathed reverberating through his body. Link’s fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the longest locks, his hands locking behind Rhett’s head. Rhett was slow, took his time, made sure that every inch of Link was well cared for until Link was weak at the knees, barely able to stand as Rhett assaulted his senses.

“God, baby…  _ ohhh _ …” Link groaned out as Rhett smiled, the pet name sending shockwaves to his heart. He wanted nothing more than to get even closer to Link, and he let his hand trail up, gave his ass a small squeeze. “I want you,” Link mumbled, biting his lip.

“Yeah?” Rhett pulled back, taking in the words Link was saying. “You want me?”

“Yeah,” Link sighed, bending down to kiss Rhett again. He wanted him more than he could express in words. Link moved down to his knees, and for a few minutes, they were back to the usual balance of Rhett being taller as they both stayed on their knees, Link’s tongue teasing along Rhett’s lips, his kisses working their way down Rhett’s beard, then his mouth sucking, lapping at Rhett’s neck, his collarbone.

“Are you sure you want this?” Rhett breathed out as Link’s hands teased at the waistband of his shorts, as he pulled them down, exposing Rhett fully. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.” Rhett wasn’t sure why he was asking. Every indication that Link was giving said he was sure, but after the last two times, he wanted to know.

“I’m sure. I want this.” Link responded, his lips brushing Rhett’s ear. “Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.” Rhett meant it, too. He’d do just about anything Link asked in that moment.

“Say my name.”

“Say… say your name?” If Link meant ‘Link,’ Rhett worried. The last time they’d been this intimate, it was the mention of the word ‘Link’ that caused him to bolt, to run off and it took until now for them to even get close to that kind of intimacy again. Even though it was different now, Rhett shuddered at the thought.

“Say it, please? Call me Link?” Link knew things were different now, and that was the one final thing he needed to be sure of, the one way he could prove to Rhett that he wasn’t going anywhere, that this was the real deal, that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Link,” Rhett said. “Link, are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. More than anything, I want this.” Link laid Rhett back carefully, kissing down his body as he removed his shorts the rest of the way, setting them by the clothes they’d already discarded. Link sank back, sitting on Rhett’s legs, his hands running along Rhett’s chest. In the glow of the candlelight, Rhett looked like pure sunshine, his golden coloring reflecting the yellow light of the candles. His eyes sparkled in the flicker of the flame as thunder crashed and rolled outside. Link took his time, letting his hands explore Rhett’s skin, taking in every detail, taking note of how soft his beard was, how strong his arms were.

There was no hurry, no need to have a frenzied pace at all. They had all the time in the world in this moment, the world blotted out around them, their feelings safe and sound behind the boards that held the storm at arm’s length. Rhett recognized this as he let his hands run down Link’s arms, let Link explore his body with soft touches, even softer kisses. For a long time, they just sank into each other, their limbs tangling with each other, with the blankets they laid on, with the soft feelings of being so close to each other.

Rhett took Link’s hand, their fingers entwined, as Link lazily stroked Rhett with his free hand.

“Can I say something?” Link started, his voice almost startling after they’d been so quiet, reverent in the moments they were sharing.

“Anything,” Rhett responded.

“Even if it sounds totally cheesy and stupid and lame?” Link asked.

“Of course, babe.” Rhett brushed the hair off of Link’s cheek, propped himself up on one elbow to look at Link, who had moved to lay down beside him for the time being. So easily they’d slipped into something so comfortable between them, pet names after weeks of no names at all, Rhett too worried saying Link might push him out the door. “What is it?”

“I think I might be falling in love with you.” Link was almost whispering now, like he was afraid if he gave the words too much weight, too much volume, that Rhett might panic. Rhett was silent for a moment, taking in the words, processing them to make sure he’d heard correctly.

“That’s good,” he finally replied. “Because I think I’m falling in love with you, too.” He moved his head down, kissed Link, and in that moment, Link’s heart swelled. He deepened the kiss, rolling Rhett onto his back, and Link straddled him once again. They were still moving slowly, still taking their time with each other, but it was like the confirmation that Rhett felt the same was spurring Link forward, giving him the last bit of push he needed to take Rhett right then and there. As Link’s kisses became more needy, more intense, Rhett felt around for the lube and condoms he’d brought down just in case.

If this moment had happened two months ago, Rhett would have been thoroughly unprepared, but despite Link running away after their first connection, it was enough to remind Rhett how much he missed touch like that, how much he longed for it, and he bought a box of condoms out of sheer desperation and the thought that maybe he’d find an excuse to use them. He didn’t think he’d ever get the chance to use them with Link, certain he’d end up throwing them away when they eventually expired. Now, he was thanking his lucky stars that he’d bothered to buy them before the storm.

Groping around in the blankets, his hand finally made contact with what he was after, and he pressed the items to Link’s chest. Link closed his hand over Rhett’s, leaning down to kiss him, then took the items Rhett had offered. He opened the bottle, drizzling it onto his hand, then kissed Rhett again as he slicked his finger, parted Rhett’s legs, sought the space he was after between them. Rhett let out a whimper, a moan, a plea for more as he adjusted to the feeling of Link’s finger, then a second finger. He was practically crumbling beneath Link.

Link took the foil package, ripped it open with his teeth, then rolled the condom on, his kisses still falling like rain on Rhett’s skin, his lips grazing any patch of skin he could reach. He leaned back again, taking one more good look at Rhett, who was gripping the sheets, face twisted with pleasure from what Link was already doing. He lifted Rhett’s leg over his shoulder, sliding in slowly as Rhett twisted the bedding in his fingers, bit his lip.

“Is this okay?” Link asked, making sure that Rhett was comfortable.

“Yes, God, yes…” Rhett choked out, and Link continued, unhurriedly, carefully, intimately. It occurred to him that for the longest time, his favorite things about Rhett were the simple things, like how Rhett mixed his rice and beans or the way his shoulders moved as he lifted the crab traps. In this moment, though, his favorite thing about Rhett was the way he looked when he was coming unglued, when he was seeing stars from the way Link moved in him, touched him. Knowing that he was causing this amount of pleasure was  _ so much _ for Link, indescribable. In that moment, the only thing he wanted was for Rhett to feel amazing, and he worked to give that to him.

Link was clinging to the feeling, the smell of the candles around them, the way Rhett’s skin tasted as he kissed his lips, his neck, his chest. Rhett wrapped his leg around Link’s waist, pulling him deeper, and the moan he let out was rough and growling, showed Link just how much he was enjoying this. He quickened his pace, his hand working Rhett along with him, both of them oh-so-close and begging for release.

“Fuck, Link…” Rhett purred. “You feel… fuck… oh my god…” he let himself trail off. Link was getting closer, he couldn’t hold off, collapsing onto Rhett as he found satisfaction. He laid there, Rhett’s hand grazing his back as he continued stroking him. When Rhett’s back arched, his breath punctuated with sharp gasps and choking whispers of Link’s name as he finished onto his stomach, the two of them struggled to catch their breath, lying quietly in the soft glimmer of the candlelight.

It could have been two in the afternoon or in the morning and neither of them would have been the wiser, neither of them cared. It didn’t matter. What mattered was this moment between them, the feeling of bliss that came over them as Link’s eyes fluttered closed. He was safe in Rhett’s arms. As his breath slowed, Rhett kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Link,” Rhett whispered. To his surprise, Link hadn’t nodded off. Instead he sleepily found Rhett’s hand, gave it a tender squeeze.

“Love you, too, Rhett.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Washed Up is returning to 2 chapters per week (Saturdays and Wednesdays) in April! Until then, look for new Washed Up next Wednesday.
> 
> Thank you to Peter for his support for this chapter.
> 
> Shoutout to @mythicalbutt and @mythicanimal for beta reading this one for me!


	17. The Eye

They dozed on and off for hours, having moments where one would wake as the other slept, then falling back under while the other seemed to almost stand watch, holding close, tucking the blanket around the one they loved. This continued back and forth until, somehow, both of them found themselves awake, blinking in the darkness, several of the candles burning themselves out to leave the room dimmer than it had been. Link’s hands grazed along Rhett’s chest affectionately, one hand teasing it’s way down, like an attempt to provoke a round two from Rhett. Rhett chuckled softly, kissing Link’s hair.

“How about some food first?”

Link’s stomach growled a response at the thought of food, and before long, Link was leaned back against the couch, still sitting on the floor, with blankets draped over his otherwise still-naked body. He held the jar of peanut butter that Rhett had paid entirely too much for, licking it off of a spoon as Rhett told him a story about when he’d first started crabbing, how he’d had his crab traps on the rocks north of the island before realizing he could tie them to his dock. Rhett plucked ravioli from a can, eating it cold and licking sauce that had dripped on his hand off of it. Link couldn’t help but smile. As Rhett finished the can, placed it on the floor beside him, Link crawled over.

“You have a little something,” Link ran his thumb along Rhett’s bottom lip to wipe off some sauce that lingered, “right there.” Rhett poked his tongue out, lapping at the sauce on Link’s finger, then sucking Link’s thumb into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it suggestively. It was enough to cause Link to pin him to the floor, but not enough to let Link gain full control, because Rhett was easily able to wriggle his hands free, to use them to tickle Link, one hand going under his arm and the other going for his thigh. Link collapsed, limbs flailing as he laughed, tried to push Rhett away. Instead, Rhett slowed his tickling, responding in kisses.

It was then that they noticed things were quiet, the air was still and the relentless rain had somehow stopped, relented after all.

“It’s quiet,” Link whispered.

“It’s the eye,” Rhett responded just as quietly. “It’ll pick back up in an hour, I’m sure.” Link just nodded in response. The eye meant they were halfway through, and Link wondered what the island would look like when it was all said and done. He had no idea how the hurricane would change the island, if it would be recognizable after the storm. He did know, though, that the hurricane had changed him, that as the wind would eventually die down and the rain would head onto the next target, his heart would be shaped in a different way, made and formed specifically to love Rhett. In the wake of the storm, he’d be a changed man, open to the inescapable pull of the man who’d practically run him over, the man who had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go.

For awhile, Link had been curled next to Rhett after they’d laughed and tickled, but the moment Link moved away, Rhett moved to stretch his back, popping it and twisting side to side. Even with the pile of pillows and blankets, the floor was hard on his back.

“I’m grabbing a few more pillows and blankets from upstairs, okay?” He stood up and walked to the stairs.

“Need any help?” Link offered as he moved to stand, to follow Rhett up the stairs before waiting for an answer. Rhett reached his hand back, and Link offered his as they curved up the spiral staircase to Rhett’s room. It was like even a few moments of the loss of the touch they’d shared was too much, like after five years without much more human connection than a few exchanged words selling crabs or buying groceries and books, Rhett was a starving man taking everything he could get.

Rhett lifted the blanket off of his bed, tucking it over his arm. He leaned forward to grab the pillow, and at that moment, Link pushed him forward onto the bed gently, face first, and laid on top of Rhett to keep him there. Link planted a kiss on Rhett’s neck just below the ear.

“Am I helping enough?” Link half whispered, half growled the words, eliciting a soft whimper from Rhett’s lips as he turned, trying to twist his way out from under Link.

“Uh, yeah, you’re really freakin’ helpful!” Rhett laughed. “The most helpful guy ever.” Rhett rolled onto his back, and Link climbed on top of him to straddle his waist as he pinned Rhett’s arms over his head. He kissed Rhett, this time nibbling at his lips playfully, kissing along Rhett’s smiling cheeks and beard to his ear. He ran his tongue along the lobe, then grazed his teeth softly against the skin.

“I’m glad you think so. I like helping you.” Rhett could hear the smile in Link’s voice, so he tugged his wrists free, knowing Link wasn’t holding on tightly anyway. He let his hands drag slowly up Link’s sides, almost excruciatingly slowly, until he reached his underarms, surprising Link with a tickle. “Hey now!” Link jolted back, scurrying away from Rhett and standing at the end of the bed. Rhett relaxed back onto the bed and put his arms behind his head, staring at the lean man in front of him.

Link backed away from the bed with a smile, like he was going to dart for the door after the tickle fest, or like maybe he had better plans playing on his mind already as a way to get Rhett back, to have the element of surprise.

“No, don’t go!” Rhett shrieked, his laughter bubbling from his chest. “I promise I won’t tickle you again!”

“Oh no, no way. I don’t trust you,” Link’s eyes crinkled with a smile.

“Come on, what’s not to trust?” Rhett pouted, sticking his lip out in hopes it would cause Link to cave, to give in, to join him on the bed. “Please?”

“You’re too much sometimes,” Link smiled, then ran toward the bed and jumped at Rhett, landing on his hips and pushing him down. Rhett was breathless, the wind knocked out of him a bit by Link’s unexpected jump, but as he caught his breath, Link started grabbing anywhere he thought he could tickle Rhett-- leaning back and reaching for thighs, sneaking hands under armpits, or digging in under Rhett’s chin. It was no luck, though.

“I’m not that ticklish. You’re going to have to try harder, I think.”

Link sighed, then stood again as Rhett whimpered at the loss of contact.

“Leaving me again?” Rhett braced himself for Link to jump on him once more. Instead, Link stood at the edge of the bed and placed a hand on each of Rhett’s hips. Despite Rhett being easily taller by six or seven inches, and despite his solid build and strength from crabbing, Link’s grasp was tight, hard, enough to make Rhett go where Link led, and Link led by flipping him over. Link was strong, and Rhett was bending to his will in this moment, aching for anything Link was offering up.

Rhett pushed himself up onto all fours, and as Link knelt behind him, he couldn’t help but press his mouth into the pillow he’d come upstairs to retrieve, moaning and shouting over the return of the storm.

When Link had finished his assault on Rhett’s senses, his tongue speaking unholy prayers on Rhett’s most sensitive spaces, he climbed onto the bed, unrolling the condom Rhett had left on the bedside table. He lined himself up and got the response he’d been hoping for, Rhett gasping, begging, reaching back to pull Link deeper, harder, guide him faster. It was all of the things Link wanted, too, and he gave, he gave everything Rhett wanted of him. The sounds of rain and thunder, wind and even hail, were no match for the shouts and groans, the words and whimpers coming from Rhett’s mouth. Link leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Rhett and crying out against his back as he came. The two of them collapsed on the bed, forgetting about their plan to avoid the windows Link had boarded until the storm had passed. Within minutes, Link was asleep, and Rhett was playing with his hair as he watched the rise and fall of Link’s chest. For the first time in a very long time, perhaps ever, his house felt like a home.

Link blinked sleepily in the darkness, trying to remember why they’d come upstairs.  _ To get the pillows and blankets, right.  _ He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to stir. He wanted to stay in Rhett’s strong embrace forever, and god, what a good embrace it was. Link could feel the tickle of Rhett’s beard against his cheek, could feel the weight of Rhett’s strong arm across him. Crabbing had given him some impressive upper body strength, and while Link had taken the upper hand in bed, he briefly considered how nice Rhett’s arms might be in the reverse situation. His sleepy thoughts made him smile, and he let them drag him back under, into sleep, until Rhett woke up an hour later.

Rhett could feel Link stirring in his arms, and he squinted, trying to make out Link’s face in the darkness.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Link grumbled as Rhett gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Is it morning?”

“Dunno. We haven’t checked the time since before the power went out the other day.” Link grumbled, trying to pull himself awake. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. They hadn’t bothered to light candles upstairs, using the lone flashlight they’d brought with them to see, and sometime during the night, it had flickered off after running out of batteries. It was pitch black in the room, and Rhett felt around for the lighter or for another flashlight, anything to bring them a little bit of light in the darkness. He landed on a flashlight first, clicking it on and holding it up to his beard.

“Boo,” he whispered. Link just grinned and leaned in to kiss him, the warmth of the flashlight heating both of their chins until Rhett let it fall between them on the bed. Rhett stomach growled, causing them to pull apart. “Food. Let’s go have food.” Link didn’t need him to say it twice-- he was already out of bed and heading toward the stairs.

Link scooped a spoonful of peanut butter, licking it off and grabbing more.

“You can’t just live on peanut butter,” Rhett said, unwrapping a package of snack cakes and tossing a sealed one to Link.

“But it’s so good! Besides, you’re trying to live on snack cakes!” Link snapped back, a smile playing on his lips.

“No way, I ate ravioli earlier. You’ve  _ only  _ eaten peanut butter,” Rhett insisted.

“Well, I mean, I did, uh, eat your...” Rhett cut Link’s words off with a kiss, tasting the lingering hints of peanut butter on Link’s lips. Link wondered why he’d neglected to request peanut butter for so long, and wondered if this was a craving carried over from his past into his new life.  _ New life, _ he thought, sounded so much better than focusing on what he’d left behind. It was impossible not to think about it from time to time, but this new normal was his life, and it was making the unknown he’d been seeking for so long start to seem foreign, a tickle at the edge of his brain instead of his constant thought. He still wondered who he was and where he’d come from, but now he questioned if he’d actually want to go back even if he knew. As he took another spoonful of peanut butter, he looked at Rhett in the candlelight and thought he’d rather stay forever.

Rhett turned on the radio, and a few minutes later, they were able to find out that it was mid-morning and that the storm was on its way out, the edges of the storm within sight. Before sunset, the hurricane would be gone, leaving whatever destruction it had caused in its wake for them to see after it headed toward Florida. Rhett wasn’t in a hurry to assess the damage, to unblock the doors and windows, to open themselves up to let the world in again. He wondered if doing so would change things between he and Link.

“You know what we do to celebrate the storm leaving?” Rhett asked as he pulled two glasses out of the cabinet.

"What’s that?”

“We drink.” Above the refrigerator, in the cabinet where Rhett had carefully stored the first aid kit and the weather radio, he had a bottle of whiskey, still mostly full. He pulled it out, dusting it off and passing it to Link. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Link read the label, then passed the bottle back to Rhett, who poured them each a little bit. They clinked glasses, knocking the drinks back quickly. Rhett poured another, then a third. It didn’t take long for Link to feel the tingle of warmth in his cheeks, the feeling of the alcohol hitting his system. Rhett could feel it, too, and before long, food was long forgotten and the open bottle of whiskey was on the counter. Rhett’s mouth was on Link’s neck, his lips searching for any skin he found close enough. As Rhett walked Link backward toward the couch, it hit Link that since they’d removed their clothing, they hadn’t bothered to put any back on. Using just the warmth of the candles and each other’s bodies, they’d managed to keep plenty comfortable. Who needed clothes when he had Rhett under him, over him, surrounding him and taking him in?

Link sat on the couch as Rhett kissed down his body, kneeling in front of him in reverent worship. He took Link into his mouth, seeking skin, seeking the feeling of Link pulling his hair, begging him for more. If they were riding out the storm together, one thing was clear: they were spending the rest of it completely naked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Wednesday!


	18. Certainty

Link was happy that, broken window aside, his first hurricane had been easy enough, a blur of candles, sex, and naps. The entire day, night, and most of the next had been spent in Rhett’s arms, on Rhett’s lap, anywhere they could find the most contact, the most opportunities to touch. But as Link laid his head in Rhett’s lap, his body stretched over the length of the couch, Rhett’s hands in his hair, they started to take note that the pounding rain had transitioned into drizzle. The whistling howl of wind whipping under the house had changed to a subtle creak, a soft swish. The storm was nearly gone, and soon, the island would switch into cleanup mode instead of seeking refuge. Those who had evacuated would come home when they could, and eventually the power would be restored.

“Should we check out the damage?” Rhett offered, wondering if Link was anxious for them to unscrew the board that covered the front door, let light in before the sun went down. Link didn’t move, the dim flicker of candlelight still giving Rhett a golden glow above him.

“Can it wait until morning?” Link murmured, his eyes closing slowly, then opening again as Rhett’s hand grazed his cheek.

“Of course.” Rhett wasn’t ready to let the outside world in anyway, was happy that Link was giving them any excuse necessary to stay inside for one more night. They could figure it out tomorrow, but tonight was theirs, just the two of them. Drinks and soft kisses, peanut butter and sleep, hour upon hour, they filled the time staying as close as possible. When they were certain night had slipped over the island, Rhett tugged Link’s hand, encouraged him upstairs. They’d taken enough naps that neither of them were tired, and what started as soft kisses turned into snuggling and spooning, turned into Rhett on his side as Link wrapped his arms around him, thrusting into him from behind, taking his time. They were making this last, both the quiet moments between them in the pitch-black room, the way that Link felt inside of Rhett, but also the time with the world shut out. Tomorrow, they’d face the world. Tonight, they’d bring each other to finish one last time before falling asleep, Link’s leg draped, hooked over Rhett’s, fingers entwined.

Link wasn’t sure what time they woke up, but neither of them made a mad dash to get out of bed. Eventually Rhett let out a sigh, lifting himself from the bed and standing near the boarded windows in his room.

“Do we have to?” Link said as Rhett lit a candle. The power would take days, maybe even a week to be restored, if Rhett had anything to go on from past hurricanes. Rhett pulled on his boxer briefs, worn and ragged.

“We probably should,” Rhett sighed. He didn’t want to leave the bed, the room, either. But they had to see what the storm had done, had to make a list of supplies they might need, had to see if the bridge had stayed intact or if they’d be taking the ferry to get groceries when it was time to restock.

“Okay.” Link fished around in Rhett’s drawer to find a pair of shorts he could wear. He slipped them on, and Rhett tugged at his arm, pulled him into a hug, a strangled sound escaping Rhett, like he was afraid to let go of Link. “You know when we open these doors and windows, things haven’t changed, right?” Link offered. “I… this is still what I want. It wasn’t just a hurricane thing for me.” The squeeze that Rhett gave him made it clear that it was what he needed to hear, and he let Link go, released him from his arms.

“It’s not just a hurricane thing for me, either. I meant what I said.” Rhett ran his thumb over Link’s lower lip, and Link kissed his fingers.

Downstairs, Rhett used the drill to unscrew the screws he’d used to hold the door board in place from the inside. Link ate a handful of cereal straight out of the bag, leaning against the counter as he watched. He wasn’t going to be much help until the door was open, until they could go outside to remove the rest of the plywood and assess the damage, so for now, he just took in Rhett’s long frame, watched him get the screws out, then watched as he slid open the door. Light poured in, and it was almost blinding compared to the dim glimmer of the candles they’d lived in for a couple of days.

Link placed the cereal on the counter, walking to the doorway that Rhett stood in, looking out. Link wrapped his arms around Rhett’s waist, and Rhett placed his arms on top of Link’s, slowly stepping forward to bring them both outside into the sunlight. The road that typically led to Rhett’s house looked like a river, water still covering it. Rhett knew that there was no way they’d be leaving the house for at least a day, and hoped the truck was safe, but had no desire to get into the water to check it. The flooding looked worse than it was, and Rhett knew it was probably only a couple of inches that would recede soon. It was enough of an excuse to stay on the deck, though, to avoid the world for another day. Rhett set about unscrewing the boards from windows, and Link helped where he could, taking the screws out carefully, stacking the panels that Rhett removed.

They worked in near-silence, most of their words being exchanged inside of the house during the storm, intimate pockets of conversation between sex. Link noticed a couple of loose boards on the deck, and a few loose rails. He showed them to Rhett, and Rhett began to make a list of supplies they’d need to repair it when they were finally able to get off of the island.

They worked well past lunchtime, removing boards and taking notes on the repairs. Aside from the window, Rhett seemed impressed with how minor the damage was. They still couldn’t get under the house, and the dock was covered in water, but things seemed to be mostly minor. A few limbs from palm trees on other parts of the island were tangled in parts of the house, and Rhett couldn’t reach the ladder to remove the boards from the top floor without dealing with the water below. Instead, he had an idea.

“How about lunch on the deck today?” He’d suggested it after they’d taken full inventory of it, removed the boards from the lower windows.

“Sure. Want me to go get it while you finish the list?” Link offered, knowing Rhett was still double-checking the side of the house for any weaknesses. Some of the paint had chipped away, but if Link was being honest, a lot was worn when he’d gotten there, probably from previous hurricanes that Rhett didn’t bother to repaint from. He couldn’t blame Rhett, who was up before the sun, for not taking the time to correct it right away.

Link returned to the deck minutes later with forks, canned ravioli, and snack cakes. Rhett settled by the railing, letting his legs dangle over the edge as Link joined him, this time, unlike weeks before, sitting close enough for their arms to brush. After Link finished his last snack cake, long after Rhett had finished his own meal, having shoveled it into his mouth quickly, Link leaned his head on Rhett’s shoulder. They stared out at the waves, still choppy and erratic. Rhett draped his arm around Link’s shoulder to hold him close, and breathed a soft sigh of relief that, just as Link had promised, nothing had changed.

“Hey, Rhett?”

“Yeah?” Rhett answered, smoothing his thumb over Link’s arm softly.

“I haven’t had a nightmare since before we… I don’t know. Since I was sleeping alone.” It was like sitting here had made him realize it, put the pieces together. Rhett wondered if he’d been thinking about the nightmares while looking at the waves, but Link answered him before he could ask. “I was just thinking while looking at the hurricane stuff how much the hurricane changed, like… the house and stuff. But I was also thinking about how it changed other stuff, too. Or I don’t know, maybe it didn’t change things. I think all of that would have happened anyway, but…” Link trailed off, wondering where he had intended to go with what he was saying, feeling a little silly for rambling about it.

Rhett didn’t seem to think it was silly, though, using his far hand to reach across, touch Link’s cheek and turn Link’s face toward his own. He kissed him softly, letting his hand brush Link’s face as it fell to his chest.

“I’m glad you’re not having nightmares.” Rhett said the words that led to a long silence. They were both happy he wasn’t having the dreams that had wreaked havoc on his sleep, on his mind, and on his sanity. The dreams were hard to recover from, and Rhett could see it in the panicked stares he so often woke with. He wondered if they were temporarily gone from the exertion they’d managed in just the short amount of time the storm had passed over the island, but he sincerely hoped that the dreams stayed away.

It wasn’t until Link stood to clear their empty cans and wrappers and take the forks inside, that Rhett took Link’s hand, tried to get him to wait for just a moment. He’d been sitting there thinking in silence for long enough to get his courage up to ask.

“What made you decide you wanted to? I mean, that you were ready? Are you afraid your memory will come back still and that you’ll regret it?” It was three questions, rapid-fire, but then again, Rhett had been doing that to Link since the police brought him to his house. It was like he worried if he didn’t spit them out all at once, he’d lose the courage or Link would say something that would keep him from asking.

“I wanted to because I knew I was falling for you. It’s been a long time coming. I don’t think we would have done the things we did before if it wasn’t gonna happen, Rhett.” Link paused to consider the rest, paused to think about a life where he suddenly woke up and remembered everything and what that would mean for what they were doing now. “I guess I just realized you were right. I could wait around for the rest of my life and never remember a damn thing, and if it meant that I missed out on this? I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself. I don’t know. That sounds really cheesy, I think.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s cheesy.” Rhett released Link’s hand with a quick squeeze. It made sense, really, Link thought. He could wait forever, he could not wait forever, he could get his memory, he could not get his memory. He had no idea.  _ It doesn’t even matter, does it? If I’m happy? _

As they read by the candlelight, power still out that night, Link realized that after over a month on the Island, he’d barely seen it. They’d gone to the bakery, sure, and he’d loved it. But they hadn’t done anything else but sell crabs and visit the bakery just once. Link knew, consciously, that money was tight. He also knew that Rhett didn’t really make much time to see what the island had to offer. If it was up to him, he’d drag Rhett out, make him show him something,  _ anything _ .

Link realized then that he’d been staring at Rhett over the top of his book, noticing when Rhett caught him staring as he looked up from what he was reading with a grin, as if he could feel Link’s eyes on him. Link looked away, trying to focus on the page, but then realized that Rhett didn’t seem to mind the stare, didn’t seem to be bothered when he’d caught Link in the act. So instead, Link placed his book down beside him and looked at Rhett, just watched him for a moment until Rhett followed suit and placed his book down, too.

“What’s wrong?” Rhett started, instantly assuming the worst.

“Nothing,” Link started. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh boy…” Rhett let out a low whistle. “That sounds dangerous.”

“I’ve been here for over a month, right?” Link thought back in his head. Without a clear calendar, Rhett lived by the signs of the island, the idea that time was shifting based on the weather and the amount of tourists he saw milling about. Link didn’t mind the fact that they didn’t have a set calendar, didn’t mind the one clock in the home being the only thing that they kept time by, the days doing their own thing.

“Yeah, I think so.” Rhett’s eyes rolled upwards, doing a mental calculation. Link had shown up in late June, and by the hurricane and the weather, it must be mid-August. Had time really moved so quickly? It felt like no time at all had passed since Link had come, like the pattern they’d fallen into so quickly was both only days old and also like it had always been that way, Rhett’s house feeling like home with someone else in it.

“I’ve only been to like… three places on the island. I know there’s other stuff here. I walked the island a lot before I started crashing here.” Link said indignantly, like he was already expecting Rhett to complain about his plan before he’d even stated it clearly.

“Well, I mean, you’ve been to more than three places. You’ve been to Skinner’s, and to Miguel’s, and we went to the bakery that one time…” Rhett started to list every place, and Link already knew he planned to mention JT’s and probably even his own house, not to mention the grocery store off-island.

“Okay, yeah, I’ve  _ been  _ there, physically. But I know this island has a lot more stuff on it, and we haven’t actually  _ seen _ it. Or, I haven’t.” Link wanted to see things, wanted to do more than they’d done. Not necessarily because he cared, but because he thought that getting Rhett out of the house might be good for both of them.

“I… I haven’t, either?” Rhett scanned his brain, tried to remember the last time he’d been somewhere other than places he sold his crabs, or where he paid his electricity bill each month.

“You’ve lived here five years, and you’ve never been anywhere? What is  _ wrong  _ with you?” Link’s jaw gaped open. Getting Rhett out of the house was more important than he’d initially thought, and he’d gone from hoping they could go out sometime to absolutely desperate about it in a matter of minutes. “We’re going out.”

Rhett was keen on protesting, on telling Link that he had no desire to go out, that he’d made it five years without seeing everything on the island just fine and that no amount of convincing would change his mind, but deep down, Link’s enthusiasm for seeing everything was fun to watch.

“Going out costs money,” Rhett grumbled, knowing it would be his last protest before he gave in.

“Not the bird sanctuary. I walked all over this entire island and the bird sanctuary has absolutely no cost. At least take me to see the damn birds.” The bird sanctuary was sprawling with walking trails, and it was a place they could go without running into a single person, Link was sure of it. Rhett couldn’t use the money excuse or the crowds excuse, which meant he’d been able to back Rhett into a corner, to successfully say something that Rhett couldn’t talk him out of.

“Fine. We will go to the bird sanctuary. But that’s  _ it _ .” Rhett grinned, knowing he hadn’t been tricked into anything the way Link thought he was. He knew his protests were weak at best, and he knew Link would find a way around them. Even if he didn’t, Rhett had to admit that living somewhere for five years without actually seeing it was a problem, and Link’s determination in solving it was worth going out for. He wanted to make Link work for it, though. If he gave in right away, he didn’t think it would be all that fun.

They tested each other in that way-- weak protests until the other gave in. Even before there was the added benefit of great sex and steamy makeouts, they tested each other. Now with that as a factor, Rhett was over-the-moon as he made his way over to the couch, putting one leg on each side of Link’s. “If you’re dragging me out of the house, though,” he placed a gentle kiss on Link’s lips, “I’m dragging your ass to bed. If you’re forcing me to go outside, you’re going to learn to appreciate being inside first. Okay?”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Link responded as he raked his fingers up Rhett’s back gently. He figured it might take them a little time on the couch before they actually made it to bed, but he was certain they’d both be okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you always to mythicalbutt for beta-reading this chapter, and to Peter for the support. See y'all on SATURDAY since Washed Up is back to two updates per week!


	19. Sanctuary

Link scanned the cabinets, trying to sort out the perfect picnic meal. With what they had on hand, it wouldn’t be easy. Canned beans wouldn’t cut it, and they were down to their last can of ravioli. Despite Rhett’s insistence that Link could not live on peanut butter alone, it was clear he’d taken a liking to it;they’d spent the past two nights curled up on the couch, feeding each other peanut butter off of a spoon while reading. It was cheesy as hell. Link knew how ridiculously sappy it seemed. But he relished in little moments like that and prayed they’d never end.

It was early in the morning as Link spread peanut butter on crackers, what little bread they’d had in the cabinets before the storm now down to the heels. They’d have to make a trip to the store if the power wasn’t restored soon. Four days out from the storm, Link was starting to itch for it to come back. The water had receded enough, though, for Rhett to trap crabs again and for them to leave the house if they needed to. Link wondered how Rhett would sell crabs if half the island was out of power, if he’d have any success, but if Rhett was ready to be back to work, it was worth him being near the choppy waves. The water was rough, and Link begged Rhett not to get too close to the water. He feared Rhett would fall in and he’d lose the person he loved most. But Rhett reassured him, promised him he’d be careful, even joked that he’d be willing to wear a life jacket if it would set Link’s mind at ease. Link had just rolled his eyes, given Rhett a kiss, and stole glances at the window every few minutes to make sure Rhett was still there. Without the dock lights, he wondered how Rhett could even see, the couple of battery-powered lanterns the only light he had.

Thankfully, the bridge was fine, and Link thought there was hope to crabbing after all. Tourists were still coming to the parts of the island with power. A few of them might be slightly inconvenienced by stray palm leaves or by the minor storm damage to a few of the houses, but otherwise, the island was okay. He knew that a few houses had taken some significant damage and Rhett told him they’d be unoccupied by renters the rest of the summer, facing repairs when their owners returned to fix them. But for the most part, the island recovered quickly, and they were both thankful that Rhett would likely be able to close out the tourist season, then the crabbing season, with most of his income stream intact. Barring another hurricane, at least.

As they’d waited for the waters to die down enough for crabbing to resume and for the trip to the bird sanctuary Rhett had agreed to, they’d been hard at work repairing what exterior damage they could without being able to go to the hardware store. They’d re-secured loose boards in the deck and pieces of railing that wobbled. Then they’d used their hands, rough from work, to reward each other at night, to repair the cracks in their spirit from the time they’d held each other at arms length. But now, they were embracing the pull between them, the way they seemed to be magnetic.

Neither of them had braved the spare bedroom, across the hall from Rhett’s room, to even clean up the glass from the shattered window. Instead, they’d kept the door closed tightly, the tarp still over the window, and tried hard to ignore it. Rhett felt a sharp pang of guilt every time he thought about the window. After carefully tending to it, it was clear Link’s leg would have a permanent scar, stretching most of his shin, from where the plywood had scraped the deepest, digging into his leg. Rhett’s own scars bore painful memories, but he’d never expected to feel worse about someone else’s scars than he did his own. If he’d been home to help Link, it never would have happened, and Rhett felt like he’d never be able to apologize enough.

Link’s own guilt over the window ran deeper than his scar. If he’d covered it properly, gotten it secured like Rhett had shown him, they wouldn’t have the unexpected expense of replacing it. Rhett worked so hard, saved so carefully, for Link to ruin it with misplaced screws. It was aggravating, leaving him feeling like he should have done better. It was their shared guilt that made the closed room seem like the best plan until they could purchase a new window.

In the dim candlelight of early morning, Link tried not to think about it. He packed the peanut butter crackers in a bag, tossing in snack cakes and a few bottled waters left over from their hurricane preparation,. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for a small picnic, and they could always eat some of the canned beans once they got home. He reminded himself that if they had a good time, he could put more effort into the next picnic. Link couldn’t imagine Rhett hating it-- after all, it was free, and most tourists overlooked the park in an effort to do other fun things. Link figured they might not even have to interact with anyone, making it the perfect date for Rhett to go on.  _ Date,  _ Link thought, his heart lingering on the single word that implied  _ more  _ for them than just “some guy crashing on some other guy’s couch.” Then again, even without the date, Link knew that was already the case, that they were far more than that. He hadn’t slept on the couch since before the storm had hit with full force, and the things he and Rhett had done together? It wasn’t exactly just “crashing on the couch.”

Rhett closed the door behind him with his elbow as he walked inside with a heavy basket of crabs in hand. He opened the freezer, fishing around for the few ice packs that remained frozen in the power outage. If the power wasn’t restored soon, he knew he’d have to hold off on crabbing again until they could find a way to re-freeze the packs, but for today, he had just enough to keep the crabs he’d caught cold. The other end of the island would be open for business, which meant it was at least worth trying to sell them. Rhett closed the freezer door and looked down at his baskets. He’d only managed two baskets of crabs, but that seemed like it would be plenty, enough for what was sure to be limited demand.

“What are you doing, babe?” Rhett looked up at Link, checking him out as he assembled the bag for the picnic, slipping the last two bananas into the bag to bulk it up.

“You said as soon as we were able to leave the house, you’d go to the bird sanctuary with me and you’re not getting out of it.” Link grinned, willing to fight Rhett on it, at least playfully, pushing the point to argue that they were going. Rhett had promised him a date, and he was going to get one. Rhett crossed the room, pushing Link gently back against the counter and burying his face against Link’s neck, kissing him. The touches, the tender kisses, the attempts to drag each other into bed weren’t getting old to either of them. While Link recognized it as a distraction, he certainly wasn’t stopping it, giving Rhett at least a moment to kiss and tease his tongue along his collarbone. Link tried his hardest not to whimper, not to react in a way that would make Rhett think he was going to get out of going. Rhett shifted his focus back up Link’s neck to his ear.

“I said that, did I? That we’d go as soon as we could?” Rhett’s voice was low, husky, and it was sending serious shivers down Link’s spine.

“You did,” Link replied weakly. “And you can use that sexy voice all day, but it still won’t get you out of taking me somewhere.” Link put his hand on Rhett’s chest, pushing him back just enough, giving them a few inches between themselves.

“I can take you someplace,” Rhett reached around, grabbing Link’s ass with a wink. “How about to the bedroom?” Link shot Rhett a glare, but Rhett put his hands up in defense. “I’m kidding. You know I didn’t forget, and you know I want to go.” He leaned around Link, hooking a finger into the top of the bag to get a peek inside. “It looks delicious.” He kissed Link’s cheek and returned to the crabs with a smile on his face. Link looked away before Rhett could catch him blushing.

Within hours, they’d managed to sell all of the crabs. Rhett wondered if some of the businesses were desperate, their usual supplier dealing with worse flooding and damage than the island had, or if they were just taking pity on him after he’d been unable to work for days. Rhett was just happy to sell  _ something _ , when he’d previously been worried the bridge would cut them off from tourism, and as a result, crab sales. The island could be fickle, the tourist could, and sometimes it meant that his chance to earn a living could.

It wasn’t even mid-morning yet, but Rhett didn’t bother to drive home, instead taking Link straight to the bird sanctuary to prove he had no intentions of getting out of this. It amazed Rhett how such a small island could go from rocky beaches to a full-on forest, and then to sandy beaches in less than twenty miles. He never took time to stop and appreciate it, but now, at Link’s urging, he had no choice but to revel in it. Link bounced like a small child, excitement bubbling through him, and Rhett couldn’t help but smile at the boyish way his face lit up as he looked back and forth between the two trails that forked apart at the entrance.

Rhett looked down each path and saw one looked less traveled, bare ground instead of wooden boards leading the way, more brush that went uncleared. A sign indicated that route was the longest, so Rhett took Link’s free hand and started down the path as Link shifted the lunch in his other hand to get a better grip on it. Rhett rubbed Link’s thumb with his own as they walked into the woods, the trees arching high above them.

They both stayed quiet, near-silent, as the chirps of birds echoed above them, providing the soft soundtrack of the morning. The leaves rustled, and the tall trees gave the shade, making the area almost seem dark despite the bright sun overhead, the air around them still.

Rhett had to admit it had been far too long since he’d felt a peace and contentment quite like he felt in that moment. He wasn’t sure if it was the calm setting, the company he had with him, or some combination. Either way, he was happy Link had managed to talk him into this, to practically drag him out of the house. He froze, stopping in place suddenly, and Link followed suit, wondering what was wrong. In the wildlife area, anything could be lurking ahead, including a crocodile or other animal, something dangerous that they’d need to quietly get away from. But as Link looked around, he saw nothing. He turned to Rhett, studying his face to find out what caused him to stop, and was met with a rough hand on his cheek, gently cupping his chin and drawing him into a kiss.

“Oh,” Link said breathlessly.

“Oh?”

“I… I thought you’d seen a wild animal or something.” He looked around again, but saw nothing unusual, surrounded still by the trees, the birds, and Rhett.

“I did. You.” Rhett winked. “I just wanted to kiss you,” he whispered. He didn’t want to disrupt the peace of the setting, keeping his voice intentionally low out of reverence. “I always wanted to kiss you,” he confessed.

Link’s eyes softened, and he kissed Rhett again. For a moment, he tried to find the right words to say “I wanted it, too,” and “I’m sorry I kept pushing you away for so long.” Instead, he looked at Rhett, grinned sheepishly, and said “That is so, so cliche.”

“I don’t care. It’s true,” Rhett said. Link just pulled him closer.

Rhett didn’t want to leave at the end of the day. They’d taken every path twice, wandering slowly, pausing to kiss slowly and carefully, no one around to see. They lazed on a dock near a pond in the center of the bird sanctuary and ate their lunch. They walked more. Leaving seemed like such a bad idea when they were having such a good time together.

“You’re still alive,” Link joked as they walked toward the truck. “Was leaving the house as horrible as you expected it to be?”

“Oh, shut up,” Rhett sighed, crowding Link against the truck, using his hips against Link to close the space between them. His hands tangled softly in Link’s hair. “You know I absolutely hated,” he paused to kiss Link, “every minute of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Link rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the grin that would have sold the eyeroll completely. He kissed Rhett then, pulling him closer if that was even possible. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I’m lucky? Me? I don’t know, I think you’re pretty lucky that I put up with you,” Rhett planted a kiss on Link’s jaw as he opened Link’s door, knowing that if they didn’t get in the car soon, things might dissolve into a full-blown makeout session in the parking lot. “All these crazy ideas about getting me out of the house, I swear. You’re going to be the death of me.” Link pulled Rhett toward him as he sat down on the passenger seat, legs still hanging out of the open truck door.

They’d gone from 0 to 60 in less than two weeks, and they were deeply in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. The PDA wasn’t helpful, regardless of how much Rhett wanted it, because keeping his hands off of Link in private was hard enough. Here, he was struggling to contain himself, to keep from locking them both in the truck for a few minutes and touching any way they possibly could. They were electric together, and when they started, they had trouble stopping, the floodgates opening.

Rhett knew from experience that those feelings would likely fade, eventually slow to a trickle, maybe even disappear altogether. But for now, he was letting himself enjoy this, trying not to overthink what was likely coming, and tried to let himself believe that this time could be different. Rhett gave Link one more small kiss, then stepped back so Link could get in the car, letting him close the door.

Rhett had barely gotten in on the other side, closing the door behind him but not yet buckling his seatbelt before Link took his hand, kissed his knuckles.

“You’re right, you know.”

“About what?” Rhett tried to think back through the conversations they’d had that day. Right about going out? Right about always wanting to kiss Link?

“Me being lucky. You put up with me, you love me. You’re willing to go to a bird sanctuary with me. You let me crash at your house even after I pushed you away and was a total dick to you and…” Link rattled off the laundry list of all the reasons he didn’t think he deserved Rhett, his eyes welling with tears. Rhett raised a finger to Link’s lips to hush him, to stop him from talking for just a moment.

“Link, don’t you get it?” Rhett started. Link no longer flinched at the name, having embraced it from Rhett moaning it again and again, from soft conversations, from realizing that it was who he was now. “We’re both lucky for so many reasons. Right now, I’m lucky that you’re patient with me even though I’m not used to going out. I’m lucky you’re… you’re here. I need that. I need you. In my life, I mean.” Yes, Rhett did things that were loving and good to Link. He let him stay, he brought in an income to support them both for now. But it didn’t mean Link wasn’t repaying him a million times over, giving as much, more than he did. “We’re good for each other. We’re  _ both  _ lucky, okay?” He let his thumb swipe at a stray tear running down Link’s cheek.

He wasn’t completely clueless-- he knew that Link felt bad for always having to take. He tried every way he could to reassure him that it wasn’t true, that Link gave more than enough. But with no ID, no way to get a crabbing license, Link expressed discontent that he could never chip in financially. They’d had more than a few late-night talks about it during and after the storm. Link helped with work in any way he legally could, like how he’d helped with ice packs or used his charisma to sell the crabs. Link was always cleaning the house, paying attention to details Rhett had never noticed in the 5 years he’d lived there. He did so many things, things Rhett couldn’t adequately thank him for. And yet, to Link, it was never quite enough. It always felt like he was taking more than he was giving, and Rhett didn’t know how to make it clear that it was equal, they were equal, and everything was okay, that Rhett was truly happy.

The afternoon sunlight sparkled through the trees that hung over the parking lot, and Rhett leaned across the center of the truck to give Link one more soft kiss that dissolved into several more. It had been nice to go out, to do something other than sit at home and read. Rhett had forgotten how nice it could be to actually do something,  _ anything _ . But better than doing something, he got to do something with Link, and that was worth getting out of the house for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading this one! Also thank you to Peter and Sierra for their support.
> 
> See y'all Wednesday.


	20. Private Space

Rhett had gotten used to spending his days with Link, but spending the day  _ out  _ with Link felt good. He never wanted it to end. But when Rhett pulled up to Miguel’s without a word, Link was confused.

“Did you forget something?” Link wondered aloud, trying to figure out if Rhett had left something from earlier that day, perhaps his pay or an ice pack, a piece of equipment. Rhett just smiled at him and leaned over the center console to kiss Link’s cheek.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back, okay?” Rhett darted inside, leaving the motor running. A Merle Haggard tape played in the cassette player, and Link fiddled with the volume to turn it up. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and humming along with the now-familiar tune. The songs had become more enjoyable each day, the tape being Rhett’s favorite. Link drummed his fingers on the side of the car, window rolled down. He heard the distinct sound of gravel shifting under Rhett’s feet and opened his eyes to Rhett holding out two bags, placing them through the window and in Link’s lap. “No peeking.”

“Really, no peeking?” Link rolled his eyes and grinned, but he didn’t attempt to touch the bags, instead letting them rest on his lap.

“Did you miss me?” Rhett asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Always.” Link knew it was trite, even downright corny, but it made Rhett beam, so Link went with it. “So you’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“Why do you want me to spoil all the fun?” Rhett prodded, but then answered. “It’s dinner.” Rhett was certain the power would still be off, and rather than make Link stomach another can of ravioli or cold beans, he was ready to shake things up and eat something different. Link had gotten him out of the house to go to the bird sanctuary, and Rhett was feeling willing to try something new. In spite of his fear about tourism season being shorter, or about money stretching enough with two mouths to feed instead of one, he wanted to extend the day that had felt so special, and the only way he could think to do it was with a special dinner. When they pulled up to the house, Rhett took steps toward the storage room that held the ladder.

“Take those upstairs, and I’ll get the board off of the balcony door so we can eat up there.”

“We can eat on the deck if it’s easier,” Link offered. He didn’t want food that Rhett had likely spent a good amount of money on to get cold, but Rhett was insistent, grabbing the ladder and walking around the house. He was halfway up the ladder before Link even made it inside. He filled glasses of water and balanced the styrofoam containers on top of plates, attempting to carry it all upstairs. He got to Rhett’s bedroom in time to hear the power drill unscrewing the boards he’d carefully put into place the week before.  _ Had it really only been a week?  _ So much had changed in so little time, and yet nothing had changed, not really. It was all inevitable anyway, Link believed. He was happy these windows had stayed intact, unlike the one across the hallway.

Within minutes, soft early evening light entered the room as Rhett slid the single board that allowed the door to open away. He invited Link onto the balcony.

“I’ll deal with the other boards later,” he clarified, reaching inside his room for two chairs that had rested on the balcony before the hurricane. Rhett hadn’t ever had a reason to own two chairs for the balcony until now, especially since the deck below, which was far larger, had no furniture at all. But for some reason, Rhett liked the balance of the two chairs on his own balcony, liked the option of sitting in whichever chair he wanted to sit in. Link passed him a plate and he took it carefully, using his hand to guide the water glass so it wouldn’t spill.

“I need to buy some beer next time we’re at the store. Tacos and water don’t really go together, do they?” Rhett chuckled. For the first time in five years, he wondered if he’d been making the right decision to stash as much money as possible instead of using it on the little things he could enjoy-- things  _ they  _ could enjoy-- like beer with dinner.

Link started in on the tacos quickly, hungry from the small sack lunch he’d packed. Lettuce fell from his taco onto the plate, but it didn’t take him long to scoop it up, eating it, too. It hit Rhett how nice it was to eat something other than beans and rice. He was so used to them that he didn’t consider eating elsewhere, not usually, but he made a mental note, like with the beer, to do this more often. The enjoyment on Link’s face was all he needed to encourage him.

“Do you spend a lot of time on the balcony?” Link wasn’t sure. Before the hurricane, anything Rhett did after he retired to his room was a mystery. And since he’d been staying in Rhett’s room, the door to the balcony had been boarded.

“Sometimes, yeah. I mean, if I wake up early, sometimes I’ll come out, look at the stars. Spent a lot of time out here after you got here, actually.” Rhett said the words before he could stop himself, and said something he shouldn’t, if the blush on his face was any indication.

“Why after I got here?” Link asked. The way Rhett got quieter, the rosy tint that laced his cheeks, the way he was avoiding eye contact, it all made Link want to know.

“I don’t know. Just uh… just liked getting fresh air. No, uh… no reason.” Rhett still wasn’t making eye contact. He was hyper-focused on a piece of cheese at the edge of his plate. “Just a nice balcony, y’know?”

“Tell me?” Link asked softly.

“God, no, I mean… it’s… it’s embarrassing.” Rhett covered his eyes with his hand, trying out block out what he knew he’d have to say now that he’d started the conversation, stupidly said something that went too far.

“I promise I won’t laugh.” Link reached out and put his hand on Rhett’s knee to reassure him.

“Fine.” Rhett sighed, trying to think of the least creepy way to phrase what he wanted to say. “After you… after you left that one day, I felt pretty shitty for scaring you off or saying something wrong. I kind of figured I’d never see you again?” Rhett said the words like they were a question, like he was unsure of it, but he and Link had been over this part before, discussed it more than once during the hurricane. Rhett paused for a while, waiting for Link to say something, but Link just nodded. “When you came back, I know it’s… I know it’s wrong, okay? I know I shouldn’t have. But I kept kind of… going back to that? What happened before you left, it kept replaying in my mind a little bit. I didn’t mean to, it’s just… something you’d do or say would remind me of… you know…”

“It would remind you of me sucking your dick.” Link smirked wickedly.

“I mean, yeah, I guess you could uh… just come right out and say it.” Rhett chuckled, but his look was stone-serious. He seemed genuinely worried that whatever he was about to say might scare Link off. “I… sometimes when it was too much, or when I couldn’t sleep, I’d… you know. I’d think about it and…” Rhett let his words trail off, and when Link cocked his head to the side, implied Rhett would have to actually  _ say it _ , Rhett made a motion with his hand, making his statement clear. He hoped Link would let him off the hook, let him avoid saying the rest.

“You’d get off. Okay, but… what does that have to do with the balcony?” Link wasn’t letting him off so easily. He wanted to know.

“I started to get paranoid that you’d, I don’t know, that you’d know what I was doing. So I stopped doing it in my room and started, uh, well, I’d come out here.”

“I’m taking that to mean you would come out here in the literal sense?” Link called him out on it, and Rhett turned bright red.

“Yes, Link. I’d come out here, and I’d jerk off, and I’d… I’d  _ come  _ out here.” The play on words wasn’t lost on Link, and he busted out laughing. “God, you promised not to laugh!”

“Oh, gosh, baby… I’m not laughing at you. I’m… do you really,  _ genuinely  _ think that I took such long showers because I’m super serious about my hygiene?” Link placed his empty plate on the balcony next to him, noticing the sun going down around them. No one was outside in any of the houses nearby, many of them still boarded up and unoccupied, typically used as vacation rentals. They were all alone outside, only the bay in front of them to keep them company. Link took Rhett’s plate from his hand, stacked it on top of his own, and put a hand on each arm of Rhett’s chair. He did a glorified push-up on the chair, dipping down to kiss Rhett. Still down, still making eye-contact with Rhett, he lowered his voice. “How about you show me how you used to come out here?”

“Oh God,” Rhett groaned, already getting harder at the sound of Link’s words. “I… you… you want me to show you?” His voice was breathier now, and Link was unfastening Rhett’s shorts, sliding them off of him. Rhett thought about looking around for a moment, but the sun was setting fast and he heard nothing other than the waves, so he didn’t bother protesting. He simply let Link take his clothes off.

“Show me,” Link whispered into Rhett’s ear, then pushed himself back up, settling onto the edge of his chair, just  _ watching _ . Rhett was nervous, thrilled. No one had ever watched him like that before, looked at him so hungrily like Link did. Sure, he’d gotten off in the same room as someone before, had someone see him do it, but no one watched him the way Link was watching, intently, almost like he was taking mental notes. Rhett started slowly, teasing himself, biting his lip. Link whimpered in response, struggling to contain himself. Link loved looking at Rhett as he did this, loved the way Rhett was coming undone at his own hand, under Link’s watchful gaze. “God, you look so good like that, Rhett,” he said softly. “So fucking good.”

His voice was doing so much for Rhett, and Rhett never wanted him to stop talking, to stop saying the words he was saying.

“Don’t stop talking, please… fuck… keep talking,” Rhett muttered, biting his lip harder. Link smiled near-wickedly at the knowledge that his talking was doing so much for Rhett. He wondered how quickly, how easily, he could get Rhett to come without laying a single hand on him, without doing anything other than watching and talking.

“I love seeing you touch yourself, love watching you do that. Is this what you’d do when you’d think about me? When you’d think about how my lips felt that day I sucked your cock?” Link wasn’t holding back, was trying his hardest, and it looked like it was working. Rhett’s legs spread apart more in the chair, his eyes fluttered, and his jaw went slack. His hand, however, didn’t slow, instead quickening as Link continued. “You liked how I’d run my tongue along it. I could tell by the sounds you made.” Rhett’s toes were curling slightly as he shifted his feet, moving to a more comfortable position. All he wanted was Link’s hands, mouth, anything on him. He wanted Link to stop watching, start  _ doing _ . 

“Link,” Rhett whimpered with desperation.

“What, baby? Tell me what you want,” Link wasn’t going, not without Rhett actually asking.

“Come here,” Rhett requested. Link didn’t move.

“Aw, why you gotta say it like that, baby?” Link wanted more, wanted Rhett practically begging. He didn’t know why, but it felt good to think about Rhett begging him to come closer, and he could tell by the look that flickered across Rhett’s face that he was into the idea, too.

“Please, Link, I need you, please come here, please,” Rhett said the words like a prayer, begging and needy. It was everything Link wanted, his cock twitching in response to the way Rhett said the words. He peeled his clothes off, kicking them aside as he raced to close the distance, positioned himself on Rhett’s lap. Rhett wasted no time in moving his hand away, “will you touch me? Please?” the words on his lips as he leaned forward seeking Link’s. Link gave in, kissing him bruisingly hard. He nipped at Rhett’s lower lip with his teeth, and Rhett bucked his hips, seeking contact, any contact he could get.

Link wrapped his hand around both of them, stroking them together, in time with each other and against each other, using the dampness they’d both created to make it easier, to help them slide together. Rhett could hardly contain himself, his whispers and begging now more desperate and pleading.

“Oh my god, Link don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop that feels so good, oh god, please don’t stop.” Link had no intentions of stopping, of course, his hand instead setting the pace for what was sure to be a slow, careful ride. It was slower than Rhett seemed to desire in the way his hands gripped Link’s back, clawed at him in search of  _ more _ . Link was sure there’d be marks on his back tomorrow, and he loved the thought of it, the lingering reminder he’d have. Rhett was whimpering and groaning, coming unglued at every touch, and Link picked up the pace with a calculated sort of precision, satisfying them both and leaving Rhett wanting more.

Rhett was scraping his nails down Link’s back, gripping Link’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, and Link leaned forward, rested his head on Rhett’s shoulder as he continued his assault on both of their senses, the pace growing faster and more intense. Rhett’s hand moved up to Link’s head, pulling him close, and Link’s teeth were digging into the skin on Rhett’s shoulder, just above his collarbone. Rhett didn’t let go of Link’s head, didn’t ask him to stop or try to pull away. Instead, he held Link there, taking over the pace by thrusting himself into Link’s hand. It felt good, and Link allowed Rhett to take charge and thrust. For a moment, he thought about how nice it might be for Rhett to truly take charge, to switch things up in the bedroom. He didn’t have time to find out, though, not this time. Rhett finished with a yelp, spilling over Link’s hand and slumping back into the chair, spent.

Link wasn’t quite finished, backing toward his own chair. He didn’t expect Rhett to follow on his knees, nudging Link’s legs apart and letting his mouth take over for Rhett’s hand. Link rested his leg on Rhett’s shoulder, let his hands tangle in Rhett’s hair, giving into the sensation and letting himself relax into it, giving up any semblance of control he’d held. He let Rhett work his magic, let him run his tongue along him, exploring every inch. Link may have been shorter than Rhett by more than half a foot, but this was one particular way he more than measured up to Rhett’s size, and Rhett loved it, how long Link was. He lapped at the tip, glints of moonlight reflecting off of the whites of his eyes as he made eye contact with Link. It was enough to send Link over the edge and Rhett was there for the ride, continuing to dip his head low, listening to Link’s moans, the way he said Rhett’s name, puncturing the quiet stillness of the night air. If there had been anyone around to hear it, neither of them would have noticed or cared by that point, each of them focused solely on Link’s release instead. Both of them settled back into their respective chairs, neither of them clothed yet, the soft breeze wafting over them as they took deep breaths and tried to recover from the overwhelming experience.

“I can,” Link took a sharp inhale, “see why you like the… balcony… so much.”

“Yeah, it’s… pretty great… isn’t it?” Rhett was also struggling to catch his breath, and for a long time after that, they were both silent. It was Rhett that moved first, off of his chair and toward Link, in much the same move Link had made earlier, placing one hand on each arm of the chair and pushing down into a kiss. It was soft and loving now, far from the bruising passion their kisses had held only minutes before. They gathered their dishes and clothes, heading inside as the cool breeze started to fall over the island. Link started toward the stairs with the plates, but Rhett took them, placing them on his dresser and tugging Link toward the bed. The door to the balcony remained open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze of the night air as Link curled up under the sheets. Rhett nudged him, convincing him to roll over onto his stomach, then straddled him, rubbing his shoulders, arms, down to his legs.

“Legs sore from the walk today?” Rhett asked, taking his time rubbing Link’s calves, reaching over to his bedside table for a bottle of lotion to let his fingers glide easier over Link’s skin.

“Yeah, a little.” Link’s legs were fine, but he wasn’t about to turn down a massage that Rhett seemed so willing to give. Rhett took his time, making sure he took care of everything-- feet, calves, thighs, glutes, working his way all the way back up slowly, trailing kisses behind lotioned hands as he moved from body part to body part. “What did I do to deserve this?” Link wondered aloud.

“Everything,” Rhett said, placing a soft kiss just behind Link’s ear. “Just… everything.” Rhett’s hands kneaded Link’s back, and before Link could offer to reciprocate like he had planned to, his eyes closed. Rhett kept going until he heard a soft snore escape from Link, stopping only to curl up beside him and fall asleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to mythical-trash and thatsrhinkbaby for beta reading this chapter, and to Peter for the support. See you Saturday!


	21. Skeletons

Sunlight poured in through the open door, the curtains still blowing with the gentle breeze. Rhett sat up in a panic. “Shit!” He realized he’d long overslept from when he needed to be up to check the traps. Then he realized if the power wasn’t back on yet, checking them would be useless. They were out of ice packs, so he sank back down on the bed. Link blinked his eyes open, and Rhett smoothed his hand over Link’s hair.

“What’s wrong?” Link mumbled, his eyes still half-closed.

“Nothing, sorry. Go back to sleep,” Rhett said. He felt guilty for waking him from what seemed to be peaceful dreams.

“Oh no, we overslept, didn’t we?” Link was slowly waking, ignoring Rhett’s advice to go back to sleep now that he suddenly processed what had happened to cause Rhett to wake with such a start.

“S’ok. I don’t think the power’s back yet.” It hit Rhett that they’d never actually checked the power the night before. They’d come upstairs and Link had been so distracting on the balcony, and when they’d come inside, well, Rhett was still focused on Link’s body. He glanced toward the clock on the bedside table and it flashed red. If the time was any indication, the power had come back on about eighteen hours ago, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it the night before. His ice packs were surely frozen and ready to go, but he certainly wasn’t, so they took their time waking up. When Link finally pulled himself out of bed, Rhett’s eyes couldn’t help but linger on the bare skin of the man he loved so much.  _ God, I’m so lucky _ .

When Link returned from the restroom, still completely naked, he saw Rhett standing near the closet with the blanket wrapped around him. It wasn’t cold, but the soft breeze filtering through the open door was just enough that a blanket seemed like the right idea. Link walked over to him, slipping into the blanket with him and kissing him.

“Should we be productive today or go back to bed?” Link muttered against Rhett’s neck.

“I vote bed,” Rhett said without hesitation.

Link wanted to agree, wanted to go right back to bed, but now that the power was back on, he figured he should at least start some laundry.  _ Not that we’ve been wearing many clothes _ . Link untangled himself from Rhett’s arms, from the warm blanket, and walked to Rhett’s dresser, rifling through a drawer for a pair of Rhett’s shorts. He slipped them on. Rhett’s clothes were as much Link’s as they were his own now, since he’d been letting Link wear whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. It made more sense than buying a second wardrobe for Link when he fit into Rhett’s clothing so well.

“Hold that thought and I’ll start some laundry and breakfast. Then we can come back to bed.”

Rhett sighed, but agreed. A productive day was probably a smart one, given the fact that they’d been mostly preoccupied with each other for more than a week, trying to make up for all of the lost time they could have spent tangled in each other before. Rhett reached for two shirts from the closet and passed on to Link, then turned back to the closet to grab empty hangers for the laundry. He knew Link would need them later. As he turned, he felt a hanger catch on something, and before he could stop it, a box toppled off the shelf above and spilled to the ground, contents pouring out of the box.

Rhett didn’t even try to stop it. His closet had been full of skeletons, secrets he knew he would have to reveal at some point. Given the object Link’s eyes landed on first, Rhett knew it was time. Hell, these were stories he should have told before they’d done anything. He hadn’t yet found the words to say, to tell Link about a past he wanted desperately to bury behind him, one he’d done everything he could to cover up, including making permanent changes that couldn’t be erased.

“What’s… um…” Link couldn’t finish the sentence he’d started, his eyes tracing the thin gold band on the floor. There was only one thing that made sense, one thing it could be. Link furrowed his brows and felt a lump rise in his throat. His eyes followed the trail of items that fell out of the box. A couple of wads of cash, Link assumed for emergencies like the broken window. A photograph of Rhett, smiling wide in a tux, his arm around another man as they kissed. Link closed his eyes, tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm himself down about a box that was clearly something Rhett was guarding tightly.  _ So what? Rhett had a life before you. _ Link tried desperately to remind himself that it was okay to have a past. He didn’t know for sure that he didn’t, and Rhett had accepted that. Link couldn’t even be sure he didn’t have a  _ present _ with someone else, if he was married, engaged? And here he was with Rhett.  _ And here he was. With Rhett.  _ The weight of it hit him again with a ton of bricks, just like it had the first time he’d run, but this time so much harder.

Link started to walk toward the bedroom door, and Rhett panicked that he’d leave.

“Wait.” Rhett stood between Link and the open bedroom door. If Link wanted to leave, truly wanted to leave, he’d let him. He wasn’t going to hold Link hostage or keep him here if this was too much. But he wanted to let Link hear him out first, to listen to the full story before that. “I can explain.”

“I… I don’t know if I can hear it, Rhett.”

“Please. Don’t leave.” Rhett’s voice had a plea to it that Link had never heard before, a far cry from how he’d been begging the night before, this one more desperate, softer, begging Link to stay here. “If you want to leave after, that’s… that’s your choice. But please, before you do, let me explain.”

Link sank down on the floor, rested his back against the bed, his head buried in his hands. Rhett stayed by the door. The same sense of dread, nerves, hurt and sadness that he’d felt in the days after Link had come back were welling up again inside of him. They’d had a careful balance then, not too close, not too far, Rhett on one side of the room, Link on the other. Rhett was terrified that after today, it would return to that permanently. If Link stayed at all, and Rhett thought the chance he wouldn’t was pretty high.

“You don’t have to,” Link snapped. “Clearly, we both have a past we’ve got to live with, don’t we? Hell, I might even have a present that I’ve forgotten because I’m so damn wrapped up in  _ you. _ ” Link spat the words out in a way that cut Rhett to the core. He wanted to fume, wanted to shake Link and tell him that he needed this chance to talk about it, to explain. But he couldn’t blame Link for wondering what this meant, for them, for himself, for the life he had out there somewhere.

“If it helps, I highly doubt you’re married.” Rhett said the words encouragingly as Link stared at the ring on the floor like he was trying to set it ablaze with his mind. Link tensed up.

“Why, you think I’m that un-marry-able?” Link choked out the words, taking the comment to the most negative extreme.

“I meant because you don’t have a wedding ring, Link. But sure, go there.” His words were laced with more sadness than they were with anger, but it frustrated him that Link thought so little of what they had. “Do you actually believe that? Do you actually think I wouldn’t marry you in a heartbeat if I could?” The words escape Rhett’s mouth before he could stop himself from saying them, before he could reign himself back in. They hadn’t known each other long, not long enough for Rhett to be making wild statements like those, but he firmly meant them. What he had with Link, it was different than what he’d had with anyone before.

“What?” Link’s eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling with heavy, surprised breaths. “What the hell did you just say?” Link’s words were softer now, stunned, and he looked like a deer who had just heard the snap of a twig behind him. He was frozen, unsure whether to bolt away or shrink into himself.

“I said if I could, I would marry you. That yeah, I think you’re… what was it you said? Marry-able? But this isn’t about that, is it? It’s about this.” Rhett reached down and picked up the ring and the photograph, turning it over in his hand. “I think we need to talk about it. At some point we need to talk about that, about what I said, but right now, we need to talk about… about this.”

Link nodded slowly. Rhett walked toward Link, but instead of setting down beside him, he stretched out across the bed so his head and arms hung off the edge next to Link. He passed Link the photograph he held.

“That,” Rhett pointed “is my ex-husband on our wedding day. Two years, three months, and twenty-six days before he walked out of my hospital room and out of my life. I haven’t seen him even once since then. Saw his attorney, didn’t see him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how. I didn’t know the right time for that sort of conversation. When you were crashing on the couch, I thought mentioning the fact that I’d been married carried heavier… implications for what I wanted this to be. And when things changed so quickly, during the hurricane, I wasn’t sure how to slow them down and tell you ‘hey, I’m falling in love with you, but also I was married several years ago and you should know that?’” Rhett took a breath. “Everything happened really fast with us, Link. I didn’t know when to stop and say something. And the thing is, it’s been five years. A lot’s changed in that time, a lot about me has changed in that time. Sometimes it’s like it happened to a different person, y’know?”

Link just nodded in silence. He’d told Rhett everything, every single thing he knew about himself. Admittedly, that was very little. But Rhett  _ knew  _ about his own past and didn’t say anything. Link felt like Rhett had lied to him, that omitting the truth was still deceit. Link pulled his knee toward himself, wrapped his arms around it.

“Hospital?”

“I got into a motorcycle accident. It was dumb, and it was reckless. Before I went out that day, he told me--” Rhett choked up “--he told me that I needed to grow up. That I needed to stop screwing around with motorcycles and with my little ‘toys.’ I walked out the door angry, and I got on my bike, and… and I wrecked it. I mean, I didn’t mean to wreck it. I was pissed off. I worked my ass off, worked hard all the time and thought that if I wanted to have fun, that I should be allowed to do that. I got going too fast, pushed too hard and… and… I don’t even know anymore.”

“Oh my God,” Link responded. Rhett had said it felt like it happened to a different person, and Link believed him. The thought of Rhett on a motorcycle seemed foreign to him, and the thought of Rhett having things like that, spending money on something like that, seemed crazy considering. “Wait,” the story started to dawn on Link, “he left you because… because you rode a motorcycle? While you were in the  _ hospital _ ? What an ass.”

“I knew it was coming. We both did. It wasn’t like it was a surprise, him doing it then. He’d probably decided before I had even left the house that day. I think the wreck was just the icing on the cake. Stupid Rhett and his stupid, reckless decisions.” Link felt a tear fall on his arm from Rhett as he told his story.

“You’re not stupid.” Link wanted so badly to be angry at Rhett, to be furious that he hadn’t told him about this, but he couldn’t be, not really.

“Maybe I’m not now. I’ve grown up a lot. In hindsight, we were a terrible match for each other. Max was… Max was working way too hard to live up to expectations that didn’t matter from people who weren’t important. And I was trying so hard to… to figure out who I was. I don’t know, things were happening so fast in my life and I didn’t feel like I had control over any of it. The motorcycles, the thrill-seeking. It was a way to regain some of that, I guess, to say that I could do what I wanted to.”

Link turned to Rhett, studied his face over the side of the bed. He longed to hold Rhett, to promise things would be okay, that the past was the past and they didn’t have to worry about it. But here he was, looking Rhett in the face, and Link had the feeling they needed to get through it before they could move  _ past  _ it.

“But still, he left while you were in the hospital?” Link couldn’t imagine willingly leaving Rhett, especially when he was hurt, but then again, he didn’t know that Rhett, the one that was seeking thrills and riding motorcycles too fast.

“I screwed up my arm really badly, had a nasty concussion. They’d called him, of course, told him I’d been in a wreck. He was my next of kin, obviously, being my husband. I mean, he was the only person  _ to  _ call anyway. The first day he didn’t come at all.” Rhett paused, took another deep breath. “When he came, he uh… I cried. I knew what was coming. They kept me for a couple of days because I was having trouble with memories. I blacked out the wreck. The only reason I knew I was going too fast was because they told me. I still don’t remember it, never will.” Link could relate to that.

“So he just said ‘hey, sorry you’re hurt, but I want a divorce?’” Link still couldn’t wrap his brain around it.

“He told me that he didn’t want to be my parent, he’d wanted to be my husband, and that after he saw how stupid and reckless I was, that he didn’t want to be my husband, either.”

“That’s… that’s harsh.”

“It’s worse than that,” Rhett said. “While I was in the hospital bed, crying because I’d fucked up, he told me about Levi, some guy he’d met at work. Told me he was more mature than I was, had strong plans for the future. He told me that, unlike me, Levi didn’t need someone to look after him, make sure he wasn’t making a stupid decision. By the time I got released from the hospital the next day, I got home and Max was gone. All his stuff… gone. I got the papers the day after that.” Rhett dropped the photograph to the floor. He’d tried so hard not to think about it, to bury the remains in the top of the closet where he’d never have to look at them. He’d been meaning to get rid of the stuff, to get rid of the box and put that part of his life behind him. But part of him wanted to remember where he’d come from, remember why he had decided on a reclusive life on the island. Alone. When he’d come to the island, he’d decided to shut himself off from the world, and having that box reminded him why.

Link saw a newspaper clipping peeking out from under the edge of the box. He leaned forward, picking it up and reading it. It was an engagement announcement, not for Rhett and Max, but for Max and Levi.

“So… so he ended up with Levi, then?” Link wondered why he had asked, why he drove the knife in deeper, why he had to go that far when Rhett was clearly in pain recounting the story.

“He did. They got married a couple of months after our divorce was final. I guess they’d actually, uh… they’d been seeing each other for awhile. Even… even when we were still married.” Rhett sighed and rolled over on the bed, toying with the ring he still held in his hand. He chucked it across the room, hearing it hit the curtain before falling to the floor. A few inches to the right, and he would have thrown it straight out the door. For a moment, he wished he had.

“Max is an idiot, Rhett.” Link turned toward him, leaning his shoulder against the bed so he could better face Rhett completely. He ran his fingers through Rhett’s hair. “I don’t care if you were some motorcycle-riding, thrill-seeking wild man back then. He was a freakin’ idiot.”

“Sometimes I think he had the right idea, though.” Rhett closed his eyes. “For a long time I wished I’d died in the wreck instead of just messing up my arm.” Rhett held his arm out toward Link, and Link looked closely now, more closely than he’d ever looked before, at the tattoo that circled Rhett’s forearm. Beneath the twists of branches and leaves from the forest on his arm, there were scars, skin warped and ragged. Link traced the scars, the tattoos, the trees on Rhett’s arm with his fingertips, then planted a kiss on the inside of Rhett’s wrist, where the scars were the deepest.

“Do you feel that way now?” Link couldn’t imagine the pain Rhett had to feel, how there was a time Rhett didn’t even want to survive.

“Not really, no. I mean, sometimes I think about it. Especially when I’m alone, you know? It kind of comes back to you, you feel like… like the person was right to leave. It’s kind of hard to explain. I’m glad I’m alive, but I still… I still see why I didn’t want to be.”

“Oh.”

“I had nobody, Link. I lost my family when I met Max and decided I wanted to be with him. They didn’t… they didn’t want anything to do with me, going and marrying a man like that. Last year was the first time I even got a Christmas card from them in… well, since I moved in with Max. So, eight, nine years? Max was all I had, and then I didn’t even have him.”

Link knew what it was like to be alone, to have no one. At least, he thought he did. The days when he’d wandered the island, he’d had no one. He didn’t know his family or friends, didn’t know where he belonged or what he was doing. But for Rhett, it was different, harder, Link realized. Link managed because he hadn’t been left, he’d just forgotten. But Rhett? He knew what it was like to have those people in his life, and then he knew what it was like not to.

Rhett rolled onto his side and looked at Link.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t say all of this from the beginning, and I’m sorry I didn’t… I’m sorry I didn’t explain sooner. I--”

“I’m sorry you had to tell me before you were ready to,” Link cut Rhett off. He kissed his forehead. “Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

“This doesn’t change things for me.” Link needed Rhett to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading this chapter. See you Wednesday!


	22. Ours

Link sat on the dock and stared out at the water, stiller than he’d seen it in awhile, as he listened for the laundry buzzer to chime from the room under the house. The water was usually softer on this side of the island, never too high or choppy on the bay side of the island aside from the hurricane, but this looked almost flat. Rhett approached Link slowly, coming from behind him and lowering a mug of coffee in front of him. He took it, looking up at Rhett with a soft, sympathetic smile.

Rhett had needed some time, some space to handle the emotions he was reeling from after rediscovering the box in the top of the closet. He could barely look at Link for a long while, was struggling to process, so Link kissed his forehead and asked if he wanted to be alone. Rhett said no, but then nodded yes, and Link decided to get some laundry done. He’d sat downstairs for part of the time, reading a book, but he eventually had to come outside, escape the turmoil that was plaguing Rhett behind the locked bedroom door. Link had heard him crying, at times even screaming, and he did everything he could to resist going into the room at all.

“Thank you,” Link took a sip of the coffee. It was starting to taste more like the coffee Link had been making, rather than the jet fuel Rhett had served him on the first day he’d been there. The overwhelming strength that was almost enough to knock Link on his butt was gone, replaced by a soft, smooth flavor. Rhett’s coffee making had improved. A lot of things had.

“I thought you might want some coffee while you waited for the laundry to finish. It’s a little chilly out here today.” Rhett rubbed his arm with his free hand as he settled onto the dock next to Link, legs dangling over the water. He had his own mug in his other hand.

“Chilly? It’s like 75 degrees out!” August was winding down, the end stages of the summer upon them, but it was far from cold outside. Link imagined if he fell into the water below, it would be plenty warm still.

“Yeah, 75 degrees. That’s chilly,” Rhett protested as he took a sip of his coffee.

Link smiled softly to himself, drinking his coffee in silence. Despite the sun above him, he was happy to have it, the warmth on his hands. He wondered if this weather would have been considered chilly wherever he came from, then realized it probably wasn’t if he didn’t feel cold. Link leaned his head on Rhett’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Link asked. He knew that, given everything, Rhett probably wasn’t.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m okay. It was a lot to remember all at once. I’ve looked through the box before, you know, but I haven’t looked at it since you got here. Since I… since I realized I was in love with you. It changes things about what’s inside of it, you know? It makes me worry. But I’m not that guy anymore, Link. I don’t  _ want  _ to be that guy.”

“I know.” Link wrapped an arm around Rhett, smoothing a hand over his back. “Even if you were, it wouldn’t change things for me.” If Rhett was on a motorcycle, going too fast, Link would worry, sure, but he wouldn’t stop him. He wanted Rhett to be Rhett, whether that was the quiet, book-wielding Rhett he interacted with every day, or some wild and fast man with a danger streak inside of him. He wondered if that Rhett was still there somewhere, if it would ever fully fade.

“I think I know what I want to do, though.” Rhett reached across Link’s lap to Link’s free hand, the mug now on the dock beside him. He gave it a small squeeze as he looked out at the bay.

“What do you want to do?”

“Burn it.”

“Burn it?”

“Yeah. I want to take everything that reminds me of who I was before I moved to this island and put it in that box. And then I want to burn it. And after that, I want to take you on another date.” Rhett was resolved. He didn’t miss Max, didn’t miss their relationship. Even the good times didn’t compare to what he had with Link anyway.

Max was his first love, the first person that Rhett felt he could truly be himself with. For that, he would be forever grateful. Max was the person who made him feel like coming out was worth it, even if it cost him his family, and he was glad Max had given him the courage and the push he needed to do that. But their relationship was far from healthy. They were college sweethearts on different paths with drastically different goals. Max didn’t want the same things Rhett wanted, and he felt boxed in by Max’s restrictions and rules for what he should and shouldn’t be doing. Looking back, the depths of where Max’s control reached made him borderline abusive, the way Max would tell him who he could interact with and what he was allowed to do. In hindsight, he wondered if Max’s jealousy was a reflection of his own affair. Rhett remembered the fire that burned inside of him, the hurt and agony when Max left. Everything hurt at the time. But now? They were memories he barely considered, the screaming in his room only a flicker of the fact that he’d been forced to remember it at all. He was ready to forget any of it existed.

“Okay,” Link finally said. “If you want to burn it, I’m… I’m in support of that. But don’t feel like you have to do that on my account. It’s okay for you to hold onto it if you want to, or if you  _ need  _ to.”

“I don’t want it,” Rhett said. “I put it up there and… and I haven’t touched it since I put it there. It’s all old memories I’d rather forget, all things I don’t need to remember.”

Rhett looked at Link, studied his face, then opened his mouth to say something he thought he probably shouldn’t say, but was going to anyway. “Sometimes I think you’re lucky not to know what your history is like. I’d love to be able to forget mine.”

“And I’d do anything to remember mine,” Link said. But then he realized that might not be true. “Or, I thought I would. Now I’m afraid of what I’ll remember, if that makes sense. I don’t want to be leaving good stuff behind but…” Link let himself trail off, let the implication stand. If it came down to it, if he did remember, he was certain that now, given the choice, he’d leave it behind and choose Rhett. But he also knew that he didn’t want to remember if it meant remembering stuff like the hell that Rhett went through, if that sort of thing existed in his own life.

Rhett nodded quietly, then passed a worn paper to Link that he’d retrieved from his pocket. Link studied it. It was a photograph of the house, the shape familiar, but lighter, happier. The house was brighter than it was now, the blue paint of the house reflecting the tones of the bay behind it. The shutters were a friendly green. They were still green, but now they were duller and darker, the sand chipping away at them, the salt water wearing the paint down over time. The bright colors of the house in the photograph screamed “island life.” It may have been the same house, but it had a completely different energy now, a more fatigued feeling than it previously held.

“When was this taken?” Link wondered how long it had taken to dull the sparkle, how much had changed to let the house get as worn as it was now.

“About five years ago, when I first bought it. The realtor took it, actually. Kind of a gift of sorts. I was so proud of this house. Things were really hard, though. Money was pretty tight. I sold everything I had to buy it -- gave up my half of the house, my Mustang, all of the furniture I kept in the divorce. Everything. I haven’t been able to give it the love it deserves, I guess. Looks a lot different now, doesn’t it?” Rhett could read the look on Link’s face, see the way he was mentally tallying the differences between the house then and between the house now.

At the time the picture was taken, Rhett felt like the house would be his new beginning, his fresh start. Time and loneliness, though, had worn away at him just like time and sand had worn away at the house. As Link studied the house in the photograph, Rhett studied his own face. There was no smile, just a look of sheer ambition. It was the look of “see what you left behind, doing great now” smarm, as if Max would have somehow seen the photograph. Years alone cut through the snarky look on his face and left behind a tired one, his beard unkempt and his hair falling just so, however it landed when he woke up in the mornings.

He considered how he’d caught himself smiling in the mirror that morning, before things went awry and the box spilled from the closet. He realized that as Link changed the house for the better, cleaning the tile in the kitchen and getting the house back to the glory it once had, Link was changing him, too, bringing a happier note to his dull, sad, tired exterior. And to his heart.

“It looks a little different than it used to, yeah,” Link responded. He didn’t want to let on just how different it felt, fearing that Link would feel bad for not tending to the house the way he might have if he wasn’t in such a dark place. Link understood. Nothing had been easy over the past five years, not for Rhett.

“You know I didn’t even look at the house before I bought it?” Rhett said, taking the photograph from Link’s fingers and tilting it to study it more. “I heard about the location-- beach house on a tiny island, bayside, waterfront. I heard what they were asking and I knew it would take everything I had, but I saw it as an opportunity. Everything I had, sure, but also that I had just enough.”

“You didn’t look at it at all?” Link questioned.

“I went for it. They faxed over the contract, and I sent the money immediately. I moved in the day I closed on it, seeing it for the first time when I got here.”

“What if it had been a real hell hole?” Link chuckled. He marveled at how Rhett could choose to give up everything so quickly to move here until he realized that Rhett had nothing to give up. He knew Rhett was in a bad place emotionally, but it took a massive leap of faith to buy a house sight unseen just to get as far away as he could. He left behind the shards of his old life on a whim without even seeing what he was getting himself into.

“Lucky for me, it wasn’t. Still isn’t a hell hole, really, even if she’s not as pretty as she used to be.” Rhett gave Links shoulder a soft shove with his own shoulder, then sighed softly, a content sigh this time, and finished his coffee as he looked out at the bay. Neither of them pushed to fill the silence as Link wondered if there was any way to restore the home to how it had looked before. He was certain they could, provided they could find the money and the time.

“Do you regret it at all?” Link couldn’t believe he’d never asked the question before.

“No. I mean, yes, there are times money’s tight and I’m wondering why the hell I gave it all up. I had a good job back there, y’know? That was something I had going for me. I hated it, of course, but it paid well. I wondered for a long time if I could have found a cheaper place to live that would’ve made me just as happy, one where I wouldn’t have to double-check the price on a bag of beans.” Rhett swung his feet beneath him, below the dock. “Then I remember none of it made me happy before, you know? Even with Max, I wasn’t happy. Neither of us were happy. And the job sucked.” Rhett thought through it aloud, telling Link everything with the realization that he’d never actually felt true happiness back then. Not really, not in the long-term. “I thought quitting my job and moving out here made me happier. And for a little bit it did. But then I met you.”

“Gee, thanks, Rhett,” Link faked an offended gasp, but his smile gave him away easily.

“That’s not what I meant!” Rhett elbowed him. “I mean that I thought I was happy, and then I met you and got to know you and I realized I wasn’t as happy as I thought I was. I mean, not at first. At first you were kind of a pain the ass, you know? The first days you stayed here you barely spoke and you were brooding all the time and stuff. But  _ now  _ it’s great and now I’m happy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure that’s what you meant.” Link grinned and turned away from Rhett to hide the blush creeping across his face. “Sorry I was such a pain in the ass.”

“You were but you weren’t. We were both kind of being weird, I think. Because of… because... well… I don’t know. We were both acting weird,” Rhett repeated himself.

“Because I sucked your dick and then ran away,” Link supplied. “You can say it. It was weird.”

Rhett laughed and turned Link toward him, a hand on his chin, to give him a soft kiss. He placed his mug on the dock next to him, using it as a paperweight to hold the photograph down. He look Link’s hand again.

“You’re  _ my  _ weirdo, my pain in the ass,” Rhett said. Then he questioned it. They’d been living together, sleeping together, had gone on a date together, and Link had been there when he’d explained his past and he hadn’t left. But they hadn’t defined what this was, if Link truly  _ was  _ Rhett’s pain in the ass. “Or, I mean… are you?”

“What kind of question is that?” Link grinned. “Of course I’m your pain in the ass.” Link sighed and laid back, stretching his slender body out across the dock, legs still dangling over the edge as the sun made his features glow. “Though, I’m still not sure why you put up with me. Your window would be in one piece if it wasn’t for me, and you wouldn’t have had to spend a fortune on peanut butter, either.” A smirk teased at the sides of his lips as Rhett curled over him, kissing him.

“Well, now you know how  _ not  _ to board a window during a hurricane,” Rhett chuckled. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.” A window could be replaced, or could be boarded over until they could afford a new one. Rhett wished Link would stop worrying about it, stop stressing until they could get a new window, but he knew Link would keep it in his mind until it was repaired. He made a mental note to go to the store and buy one immediately, tomorrow if he could. They could install it themselves, he was sure.

“That’s true. I’ve learned my lesson. If another one hits, I’ll be ready. I won’t mess up your house next time,” Link said. He slid closer to Rhett, who was running his fingers along Link’s arm gently, calming him until he was half-asleep.

“Our house is easily fixed, Link. I was more worried about your leg.”

_ Our _ . It was a subtle correction, a nudge to tell Link that it wasn’t Rhett’s house, it was their house, the one they shared. It was a subtle shift in Rhett’s mind, too, but a shift nonetheless. Somehow Link coming here had transformed Rhett’s house into their home, their place to be, and Rhett really liked that. Letting Link in was a process. Hell, Link wanting to let himself in was a process, Rhett considered. It wasn’t easy to let someone into his home, but it was especially hard to allow someone into his life after everything that had happened before. But the truth was, Link was in. Not just in home, but in heart. Rhett was accepting that, adapting to the  _ we  _ of the situation, learning to be half of an “us” again. If he was being honest with himself, that had happened long before the hurricane, touches of Link starting to overtake the place he lived, and his heart, from the moment Rhett hit him with his bike.

So much had changed when Link had come with nothing, and Rhett wasn’t sure they’d ever sort out their issues, especially when Link left. But now, things were different. His cabinets had peanut butter now and he was kissing someone on his back dock. Neither of those were things he did before he met Link. Clearly, things were different. Clearly, they were different in ways that Rhett could appreciate. Link’s breathing had slowed, his eyes had closed, and his lack of response to what Rhett had said made Rhett wonder if he was asleep, but then his eyes flashed open like it had just started to sink in. He looked into Rhett’s eyes.

“Our house?” His chin quivered.

“Ours,” Rhett answered. A single tear slipped from Link’s eye.  _ Ours _ . Link’s eyes slipped closed again, his mouth softening now and going slack, and this time it was clear he’d fallen asleep. Rhett released Link’s hand, gathered the mug, and walked inside to the kitchen. He placed Link’s partially-full mug on the counter, knowing Link would want to reheat it later. Link insisted on saving the last remnants of coffee, knowing how Rhett loved saving money. Rhett liked that about him, that he didn’t try to mock Rhett’s frugal nature, or try to get him to break it. Not really, at least. He chose things that were free, like the bird sanctuary, for their dates. And he reheated cold coffee to finish it. Both of those little things didn’t go unnoticed by Rhett. He rinsed his own mug, setting it in the sink to be washed later.

Rhett pulled a book down from the bookshelf, the brown book with a worn cover that he wouldn’t let Link look at before, and tucked the picture inside. Aside from the emergency cash, it was the only thing from the box worth saving. Rhett stood back, considering the home he shared with Link. The shelves were the one bit of personality and charm, the piece of Rhett in an otherwise mish-mashed collection of furniture scavenged from roadsides and thrift stores. He wondered, if he had to figure out what the piece of Link would be in the home, what it would be. While he recognized that he really wanted Link to find that for himself, to find the item that made this home for him the way the bookshelves made it home for Rhett, for now, when Rhett thought of Link he pictured the couch. The couch, where they’d come together the first time. The couch, where Link had left him in a panic. The couch, where Link had returned to and stayed on throughout the nightmares that Rhett had protected him from. It was on that couch they started to sort out the  _ us  _ from the pieces of themselves, the separate beings they’d once been. So for Rhett, the bookshelves were him and the couch was Link, but somehow he knew deep down that Link was everywhere in this home, working his way into the very fabric of it’s being.

Rhett gathered a blanket off of the couch, the one Link used to use when sleeping there, but he hadn’t touched it since moving upstairs to Rhett’s room during the hurricane. He walked outside with it, draping it over Link and tucking the edges under him so it wouldn’t blow away. Link was still sound asleep, clearly enjoying the sun and the soft breeze of the bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading this one!


	23. Sexy

Rhett wandered back inside, trying to decide what to do to keep his mind off of things until Link was awake. For the first time since the hurricane, he opened the door to the upstairs bedroom and started to sweep, filling his dustpan with bits of glass. He nested three trash bags within each other in hopes that the glass wouldn’t break through, pouring the shards into the bags carefully. As he cleared the glass, he thought about the broken window and how lucky they’d been that the room was empty, then realized how sad it was that, in the five years he’d lived there, he’d failed to utilize half of the house at all.

Rhett knew the room deserved to be used for something special, and he hoped to ask Link when he woke up. Perhaps it could be a study of sorts, a place for Link to be. He wondered if Link wanted a hobby, something to do with his time other than cleaning the house top-to-bottom again and again, and Rhett figured if he did, this could be the perfect room for it. For a moment, a thought jumped into Rhett’s head without warning, the image of a crib flashing in his mind, but he pushed it out of his head just as quickly, knowing how ridiculous it seemed. They’d only recently let each other into their lives and worlds, so now wasn’t the time to consider that.

Rhett snapped back into focus as he heard the stairs creak behind him, turning to see Link stepping into the room.

“Can I help?” Link asked softly. He was yawning, waking up not long after Rhett had tucked him in if he was up so soon after Rhett finished up.

“I’ve got it mostly done,” Rhett replied, admiring the now-empty room. A few small pieces of glass glimmered in the light that was peeking through the edges of the tarp, which was now starting to fray. Rhett realized boarding it would have been a longer-term fix than using the tarp, but it didn’t matter. His plan was to fix the window right away.

“Okay,” Link sighed. His face fell and Rhett could read the guilt that was still written all over it. He reached his hand out and let his fingers graze Link’s wrist, holding it gently.

“Hey, it wasn’t anyone’s room, okay? It could have been worse, but look at it. It’s an empty room. Nobody uses this one. No harm, no foul.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Link said quietly. “Thank you for the blanket. I’m sorry I fell asleep.” Link stepped closer to Rhett, leaning a head against his shoulder.

“I refuse to accept your apology.” Rhett smirked.

“What?” Link took a step back, jerking his head away from Rhett. “Why?”

“I mean, I would accept it, but wasn’t it me that’s been keeping you from sleeping lately?” Rhett winked. He thought back how the sheets tangled around them, to the sounds Link had made on the balcony, to how they’d kept the windows open and allowed the air to carry the way Rhett screamed Link’s name across the bay more than once.

“True, that does sound like it’s your fault,” Link remarked. “How about you remind me how you kept me awake again? I’m a little fuzzy on the details… you know how my memory is.” Link couldn’t resist cracking wise about his memory after they’d done nothing but talk about the things they wanted to remember, and what they’d rather forget. Link had even acknowledged then that he didn’t have much  _ to  _ forget, since he’d forgotten most of it already.

Besides, Rhett couldn’t say no to bringing back  _ those  _ kind of memories for Link anyway, had he believed at all that Link had forgotten. So he found himself following Link down the stairs, past Rhett’s bedroom door to the couch. Link threw himself onto it, and Rhett positioned himself above Link, dragging his lips and teeth down Link’s jaw and neck.

However alone in this house Rhett had felt before he’d met Link didn’t matter. He  _ definitely  _ wasn’t alone now. That much was obvious by the way Link slid his hand under Rhett’s shirt, rucking up the fabric before peeling it off completely. Rhett sat up just enough to allow it, releasing from the kisses for mere moments while Link removed it and threw it on the floor, but then Rhett was itching for them to collide again. Link gripped at Rhett’s sides and guided him up enough so he could kiss Rhett’s chest as Rhett held himself up over Link, his hand resting on the arm of the couch past Link’s head. Rhett was thankful the couch was plenty wide, more than enough space for him to straddle Link’s hips, and he couldn’t help but arch his back into the kisses, giving into Link’s warm breath on his skin as the breeze blew through the open windows.

Link pulled Rhett back down to him, far enough that he could whisper in his ear. Rhett had never expected the words he uttered… they’d never discussed it, but they’d fallen into a specific style, a certain rhythm, like they’d just known how they would fit together. Rhett would guide Link to what he wanted wordlessly most times, like puzzle pieces that slotted together easily without ever having to ask or tell the other what they wanted. Until that point, it had been working well for them, but there was something Link longed for, like an itch he couldn’t scratch, something he needed desperately from Rhett.

“I want to feel you inside of me,” Link whispered. His lips were pleading, his eyes petitioning Rhett to give in. Rhett pulled back from Link, trying to look Link in the face and be sure this is what he really wanted. Link’s eyes were hungry, supplicating and desperate, begging for Rhett to do what he’d asked and give him everything he needed. Rhett kissed him, breathed a yes with a small nod. He’d give Link anything he wanted.

So with that decided, he reached above Link, fishing between the arm of the couch and the cushion, but he came up empty-handed. He frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Link furrowed his brow.

“Where’d they go?” Rhett grumbled under his breath. He reached his hands between the cushions again, then tried by the other arm of the couch. “Come on, come on,” he muttered. He slid his hand between the back of the couch cushion, getting more frustrated and desperate as he came up empty handed.

“Missing something?” Link’s eyes were still needy, but sparkling in the sunlight that peeked in, as he tried to join the search effort. He knew exactly what Rhett was after.

“There’s no way in hell we used all of them,” Rhett groaned, digging his hands deeper into the couch cushions to no avail. “Did we?” He thought back, trying to mentally calculate the number of times they’d had sex on that couch since he’d stashed condoms and lubricant there. With it being one of their favorite places in the house to devour each other, it became a necessity to keep them downstairs, too. He couldn’t fully remember how many he’d put in the couch to begin with. Surely, he figured, more than they'd been able to use.

“We definitely haven’t,” Link laughed, remembering that there should still be plenty. “It should be here.” He groaned and slid off of the couch and onto the floor, flattening his naked body down against it on his stomach. “Gosh, that’s cold!” Link said. He reached under the couch, flailing his arm under to try to find it. “Flashlight?”

Rhett scrambled across the room, pulling one off of the table by his chair, still there from when the hurricane was raging around them. He passed it to Link, sighing at the way the mood seemed to be dead and gone. He rubbed his cock, hoping to revive the moment if they ever found the condoms. What turned from a moment of  _ oh my god, is this really happening? _ to a mad search for what they needed to make it happen was frustrating. Rhett was a second or two away from picking Link up and carrying him up the stairs, knowing he had condoms by his bed.

“I can’t reach them,” Link grumbled. “Do you have some sort of… some…” Link leaned out from under the couch and gestured with his arm, a poking sort of gesture.

“A stick?”

“Yeah,” Link rolled over more, trying to get a better look at Rhett. But Rhett had been staring a bit too intently at Link’s pert ass, had been stroking himself to keep the moment alive. Link rolled his eyes, smiling as he said “Apparently you do. But unless you plan to squeeze  _ that  _ under the couch, it’s not going to help us. They’re near--” Link gestured again “--that back corner there.”

Rhett walked over to the couch and lifted it with a grunt, the entire side of it lifting several feet off of the ground. It was more than enough space for Link to scramble under it, reaching the accordion-fold of the remaining condoms and a small bottle of lubricant that had rolled several inches toward the middle of the couch. He crawled back out from under it as Rhett lowered it, letting it fall the last few inches with a heavy thud.

“Do you uh… you still want to?” Link stuttered. He still wanted it, craved the feeling of Rhett inside of him, wanted to know what it was like, and Rhett nodded, smiling.

“Yeah, I do.” Rhett pushed Link down on the couch gently, laying him back and grazing kisses slowly, softly this time. As his knees reached Link’s waist, his hands guided Link to turn over, to change position to something that he thought might be easier. Rhett started with his tongue, trying to prepare Link. He ran a flattened tongue along Link’s entrance.

“Ohhhh  _ wow _ ,” Link gasped. He’d never felt anything quite like it, Rhett’s tongue pointing and slowly making its way inside. “Gosh,” Link breathed. He was shifting back like he wanted more, inhaling to where his ribs were visible with the way he sucked in air as Rhett continued. It was overwhelming, a genuine assault on his senses. He reached back, playing with Rhett’s hair, tugging slightly, which only made Rhett work harder.

Rhett leaned back, drizzling his fingers with lube, sliding one into Link slowly. Link let out whimpers and groans of approval, quiet pleas asking Rhett to keep going, to give him more. He bucked his hips backward, allowing Rhett’s finger deeper, encouraging a second, which Rhett happily gave.  Rhett could tell by the soft mewls coming from Link’s mouth into the couch cushions that he was ready, desperate for more soon.

Rhett lined himself up, hands seeking Link’s hips as he prepared himself, taking a deep breath. Link could feel Rhett graze against the soft curve of his ass, could feel their bodies come so close. And then he felt Rhett freeze, tensing up.

“What’s wrong?” Link looked over his shoulder, worried he’d done something wrong or that Rhett had changed his mind.

“Nothing, it’s just… uh…” Rhett took another deep breath, exhaling slowly through clenched teeth. “This is… this is my first time doing this and I’m… I’m kind of nervous.”

Link laughed a little bit, then turned to look at Rhett. “Oh my god, you’re serious. Really? You’ve never--”

“No,” Rhett shook his head. Link had made the assumption that, since Rhett had been married, he’d tried every possible configuration imaginable. But the reality was that Rhett hadn’t exactly tried all that much, and it meant for him, this was a major first.

“We… we don’t have to if you don’t want to… We don’t… really, I…”

“I want to, Link. Trust me, I want to.” Rhett reassured him, patting Link’s side gently with his fingers. He stroked himself again, preparing and then pressing against Link, sliding in slowly. Link let out an ungodly sound, part groan, part howl, part plea and it caused Rhett to freeze in his tracks, worried he’d gone too fast.

“Oh  _ fuck _ , that’s nice,” Link croaked out, his voice cracking. “Oh my god.”

“Too much?” Rhett asked. His pace was unbearably slow and cautious, like he was terrified to move even a millimeter, worried it would be  _ too much,  _ too fast for Link despite the adequate preparation he’d had.

“No, it’s perfect. It’s so perfect, baby…” And it was perfect. Link reached back, placing his hand on Rhett’s thigh and encouraging him deeper, rocking back, showing rather than telling that faster was okay, less careful was okay if Rhett wanted it to be. It was an invitation, not a demand, and for a few moments, Rhett didn’t give in on the frustratingly slow pace. When he did, though, he did, and Link’s jaw dropped open, his mouth going slack and his voice growing hoarse from the encouragements he was yelling. “God, don’t stop, please don’t stop, oh my god.”

Rhett wrapped his arm around Link’s waist, placing his other on Link’s shoulder. Link was growing lightheaded from the noises he was making, overwhelmed by the feeling of fullness with Rhett inside of him. He never knew it could feel so good, never knew it could be so different than how he felt when the roles were reversed, and he loved it. Rhett gripped Link harder.

“Link, I might… oh gosh…”

“Do it, baby, come on,” Link encouraged. Rhett did, finishing and collapsing onto Link, pressing Link into the couch. Link loved the security and comfort of having all of Rhett’s weight on him, shifting so he’d be sliding through the couch cushions instead of uncomfortably hard against his own stomach as he waited for Rhett to come down from the high he was feeling. A few deep breaths and Rhett backed off, kneeling by the side of the couch. His hands and words encouraged Link to move, to roll over and allow Rhett to pull him over the edge. Rhett’s tongue, his lips, they worked together to bring Link to climax. He heaved a heavy breath after, throwing himself onto the couch in breathless collapse like Rhett had done.

Rhett moved the couch cushions off of the couch to give them even more space, curling into it and holding Link tightly. They laid there in a post-sex haze, their still-naked bodies enjoying the breeze from the windows.

Link wondered how many times the neighbors had heard them, how many different sets of tourists had listened to them since the first time he sank to his knees in front of Rhett on this same couch. He smirked, a small streak of exhibition that he hoped everyone could hear how good Rhett felt.

“So you’ve really never--”

“Never,” Rhett answered. “Just with you. Makes it special, I guess.”

“I’m pretty sure that was my first,” Link sighed. “I think I’d remember… God, I’d  _ hope  _ I’d remember.” He chuckled. “I mean, I want to remember it with you…” Link felt the need to clarify. These were the only memories he decided he needed right now, the ones he was building with Rhett. Anything else was in the past, unnecessary to the future he was building.

He tucked his head against Rhett’s shoulder, draping an arm across his stomach. The feeling of Rhett’s chest rising and falling slowly made him tired, even with the nap he’d had earlier. The warmth of their bodies, still slick from sweat and exertion, were tangled in each other, Link’s legs twisted between Rhett’s.

“I love you, Link,” Rhett sighed. “Never going to love anyone else but you, I think.” He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep before Link could respond. So instead, Link closed his own eyes, planted a small kiss on Rhett’s chest, and fell asleep next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise updates will be on time next week. See you Wednesday. If you like Washed Up, I'd love for you to leave a comment on it, or come find me on Tumblr (linkslipssinksships).
> 
> Thanks always to mythical-trash, mikeuppuffedhe, and thatsrhinkbaby for beta reading it.


	24. Build It Back

Darkness was approaching when Link woke up, his limbs wrapped in Rhett’s. It wasn’t quite sunset, but it was rapidly approaching it. He wondered how he’d managed to take two naps in a single day until he recalled how little sleep he was getting because he and Rhett could barely manage to keep their hands off of each other. The realization that they were very much in their honeymoon period hit Link, and he couldn’t help but smile. He hoped it would last.

Link had no memory of anyone else, anything else in the world except for the world he’d been building with Rhett. But because of how Rhett had so few connections to the world outside of Link anymore, it so often felt like it was them against the world, their love the common thread holding them together and keeping them safe.

Rhett groaned, shifting against Link and sitting up. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the setting sun.

“Dang it,” Rhett said. “I wanted to get a window to fix the one upstairs today…” He sighed and put his hand on his lower back with a groan, trying to stretch and move. Link rubbed at the muscles Rhett was reaching for, pressing his hands there and kneading the knots carefully in hopes it would make Rhett feel better. “Thanks,” Rhett said quietly.

“Why can’t we get the window today?” Link wondered. “What time does the store close?” After two naps, Link wasn’t anywhere near tired. He was game for anything at this point, including a trip to the hardware store off of the island.

“I’m sure it closes around 10,” Rhett supplied, lifting himself off of the couch. “Do you want to go now?”

Link nodded, standing to look for the clothes they’d stripped hours before. There was no reason not to go now, aside from the need to wake up early and tend to the crabs in the morning. Rhett figured he’d be fine, set an alarm if he had to, take a nap in the afternoon. After their late nap, Rhett knew a late night wouldn’t hurt either of them.

He walked upstairs, getting dressed. He knew the window was an expense they hadn’t planned for, so he tucked one of the last two wads of cash from the box that had fallen out of the closet earlier into his pocket. He’d come to the island with four of them, the very last of what he’d brought with him to the island, the remaining money from his life before. He’d held onto it, scrimping and saving, carefully keeping track of every dollar that was left, but when it was gone, and when this box was gone, the last of the life he’d once lived was gone, too. He was ready to splurge on the window sooner than he’d planned to, just to be done with the skeletons in his closet once and for all. He’d saved for so long, knowing a tough winter could wipe out everything he had, using it as a safety net in the tightest, toughest seasons. But now he was feeling better, more optimistic about the future.

* * *

 

As they entered the hardware store, measurements in hand from the last time Rhett had broken the window and needed to repair it, Link was quiet. He shifted uncomfortably as he walked, using his hand to adjust the shorts he was wearing.

“You okay?” Rhett asked. He was puzzled by Link’s odd, jerky movements and strange demeanor, somehow quieter than usual.

“Yeah, I just… um…” Link’s face turned beet red. “It’s a little bit slick,” Link whispered. He leaned into Rhett with the words, trying to keep it between them. At first, Rhett didn’t understand, furrowing his brow with confusion.

“Slick?” He asked. “Oh! Oh gosh,” he exclaimed, far louder than he should have. Link turned even redder, his ears and neck reddening with embarrassment as he clapped a hand over Rhett’s mouth.

“Shh!” he hissed. Rhett grinned and shook Link’s hand away.

“I’m sorry, I should have warned you about that.” In their post-sex nap, their daze of feelings, they’d forgotten to clean up at all. They hadn’t bothered to do so before leaving, and Link was experiencing the full effect now, the soreness of his first time paired with the slickness of the lubricant they’d used. He didn’t mind it so much, the lingering effects of their afternoon tryst on the couch, but it was an unusual feeling, one that left him struggling to focus on shopping for a window.

“Windows,” Link muttered quietly, shaking his head to try to shake his thoughts. “We need a window.” He was talking to himself, but also to everyone within earshot, to Rhett, to no one at all, just words flowing out of his mouth as a distraction. It was partially an attempt to shake his embarrassment and partially an attempt to keep him from tackling Rhett in the middle of the store. Rhett took Link’s hand and gave it a small squeeze, like he was trying to calm the nerves he sensed in Link. Link almost recoiled, their first actually public outing since they’d been together, Bird Sanctuary aside. Here, there were people, people who could see them touch and interact, and Link wasn’t sure how they’d be received. But he leaned into it.

It wasn’t hard to find the window aisle, one of the last aisles in the store. Rhett measured a few, trying to find one that matched the aesthetic of his home the closest, and the pair loaded it onto the flatbed cart they’d gotten. Link found an employee and asked for help on which additional supplies to get, much to Rhett’s chagrin. He’d wanted to seem confident in fixing the window, in a DIY approach, wanted Link to know he could handle it. In reality, the last time the window had broken, he’d attempted to fix it himself, failed, and hired someone to do it. Rhett had carefully watched, taking notes on how the repair was done, but it had been a couple of years and he’d forgotten some of the basics. As much as he’d hated asking for assistance, he had to admit Link getting help was, in fact, helpful, and they grabbed the other supplies they needed for the repair.

“Hey, Rhett?” Link’s voice was small and hesitant as they walked the cart toward the checkout, passing a few aisles.

“Yeah?” Rhett turned to look at Link, stopping the cart.

“While we’re here,” Link started, pausing like he wasn’t sure if he should even ask, “would it be okay if we bought some paint? Just for the shutters. I thought they could use a fresh coat.” Link didn’t want the offer to offend Rhett, make him think that Link didn’t love the house as it was. And with the way money was tight, he didn’t want it to be an additional financial burden, either. But since Link couldn’t help with the crabs and had already deep-cleaned the house more times than was really necessary in the time he’d been living there, he wanted another project, something to do with his time, a way to contribute. Rhett pulled him closer, kissing his forehead. He’d even surprised himself with the sudden public display of affection, but Link looked so shy and small in that moment.

“Of course,” Rhett said. He’d have done anything Link asked him to in that moment, or in any moment since they’d met, it seemed. Anything to see those sharp canines that peeked out when Link smiled widely, anything to see those blue eyes glimmer, Rhett wanted. So he followed Link to the paint aisle and they selected a can of white paint, plenty to handle the shutters on the front and back of the house.

Link traced his fingers over paint swatch cards, lingering on blue and green ones in particular, shades strikingly similar to the paint on the rest of the house. Rhett smiled.

“Thinking about painting the whole house, there, Link?” He ducked his head to catch Link’s eyes, but Link avoided his gaze.

“I… I was thinkin’ about it. But it would be pretty expensive to buy that much paint. It’s not a big deal. The house is pretty as it is,” he said softly. Rhett smiled and Link’s eyes finally flicked up to meet his. “Unless you wanted me to?” Link was stumbling on his words, toeing the line between what he worried would offend Rhett or be a burden, versus what seemed helpful. A house with newly painted shutters and chipped, battered, dark paint elsewhere didn’t seem quite right. Link thought he had the chance at truly making the house something Rhett would be proud of again if he was given the chance.

Rhett picked the blue paint swatch that Link had most recently touched, then a green one, the shades most similar to his own home.

“What do you think?” Rhett held the swatches up. “Are we sticking with blue and green or do you want to try something new?” Link’s eyes jumped back and forth between the cards in Rhett’s hands and the ones displayed.

“How do you feel about yellow?” Link selected a buttery color that was more akin to the color of the setting sun than the ocean below like the house was currently painted. It was stunning, warm and inviting, a color Rhett never would have chosen personally.

“That’s beautiful,” Rhett breathed, his voice low. He was stunned at the way Link’s eyes had picked what seemed to be the perfect color out of a sea of different yellows. Then he wondered if part of the perfection in it, the beauty he found in it, was that it had caught Link’s eye. Link reached for the blue swatch Rhett still held in his hand.

“This would be nice for the door and some of the trim pieces of the deck, too,” Link thought aloud. He turned his focus to Rhett. “If that’s okay, at least. I know it’s a lot…”

“Link,” Rhett cautioned, putting a hand on Link’s arm gently. “I wouldn’t be holding up swatches if I wasn’t okay with us buying paint. It’s okay.” He realized his sudden change of heart on spending money might be a lot for Link to understand, when they’d pinched every penny and he’d even been angry at Link over wasting the crabs. But the middle of the store wasn’t the time or place to explain it, so he tucked a strand of Link’s shaggy hair behind his ear and smiled. “Remind me to tell you something in the car, okay?”

Link nodded, and they tracked down an employee to help them mix the paint. As they waited, Rhett made his way over to a display of cinder blocks and an instructional panel discussing how to make a fire pit from them next to it. It seemed like a good way to burn the remnants of the past he found better off forgotten, far better than sticking them in a waste bin and sticking a candle in with them. But his mind was elsewhere, picturing quiet nights with Link outside by the warm fire over the winter, when it was cold, but not too cold to be outside if there were flames licking at the sky to give them warmth.

“Hey, babe, can you grab another cart for me?” Rhett asked, picking up a pamphlet that described the same process on the display. Link did as Rhett asked, returning quickly and watching as Rhett stacked a few cinder blocks onto it.

“What are we doing with these?” Link asked, helping to load block after block onto the cart he’d brought over.

“Building a fire pit.”

“A fire pit?”

“Yeah. I think it would be nice. You, me, the bay, the stars, fire…” Rhett explained quickly. “It might be fun…”

Link smiled and agreed, picturing the two of them together. They’d probably need to bring the chairs down from the balcony, or pick up some patio furniture for the lower level, but they’d make it work. Rhett gathered everything else they’d need, according to the pamphlet. He looked over their cart, window, fire pit supplies, everything but picking up the paint they’d had mixing nearby.

“Once we get the paint, do we have everything?”

“Yeah, I think so. Unless there’s anything else we need to take care of?” For now, Link figured they had everything. Maybe eventually, they’d fix a few scraggly bits of deck railing, or re-paint the bedrooms, but for now, he was excited about the buttery yellow paint that would look like part of the stunning sunset behind their house every night. With everything on the two flatbeds in front of them, it seemed like they had a solid plan, a good start on reviving Rhett’s house into their home, shining it up like a penny to reflect the awakening inside of the home, too.

After loading everything into the back of the truck, Rhett leaned over to Link and kissed him. “You’re too good to me, you know?” Rhett said. He sat down on the open truck tailgate and patted the space next to him. “Can we talk for a sec? Before we drive?” Rhett asked. Link nodded, a worried expression on his face in the parking lot, lit only by the lights above them. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“Okay,” Link sat down next to him, his feet dangling slightly below in a way that Rhett’s didn’t, his longer legs stretching to the pavement easily. “What’s wrong?” Even with Rhett’s promise that nothing was wrong, the serious need to talk startled him, especially when it was something that couldn’t wait until they’d gotten home. A million thoughts raced through his mind. Had Rhett changed his mind and decided he wanted to step back from this? Had Link asked for too much in the store?

“You know how I said that we don’t have the money for things? Like steak or name-brand cereal or anything?” Rhett started.

Link nodded. “Yeah, I know.”  _ Great. I asked for too much, _ Link thought, his stomach sinking.

“It’s true, money’s kind of tight, especially in the off-season, which is coming up pretty quick. But… but there’s something that I haven’t been up front about. And after not telling you about my ex-husband and stuff, I feel bad. I don’t want secrets. Not intentional ones, anyway,” Rhett continued.

“Oh.”

“For a lot of my life the past few years, it’s been a big question of what’s gonna go wrong next. I mean, everything went wrong for so long that I’ve had a lot of trouble thinkin’ about what might go right. So I’ve been kind of panicky.”

“That’s understandable,” Link muttered. He didn’t want to seem disinterested, but wasn’t sure what Rhett was going to say, so he mostly nodded along.

“When I got divorced, I got a little bit of money in the divorce. Not a lot, of course, but a little bit. I spent most of the money I had in the world-- all of my savings and past paychecks and all that I had-- on the house. But I held a little bit back, just emergency cash, nothing major. Some of it got used along the way, when the fridge died, or when I needed to buy my crabbing license before I started that.”

Link nodded slowly again, following the conversation.

“Link, somewhere along the way I stopped living. I mean, I was alive, but I wasn’t really living. I’ve been spending my time eating the same damn beans every night for dinner, spending a little bit of money on books but not really anything else. The house is going to crap, the days all kind of started blurring together because I just kept doing the same things and not making it better.”

“So what are you sayin’?” Link asked.

“I’m saying you changed things. I’m saying that my days are different now, not a blur of the same things every day. And yeah, money’s still tight, it is. I’m not going to lie to you. Winter’s going to be hard-- we’re going to have to make the same winter money to stretch to feed us both instead of just me and we’re going to have to be prepared for things like the fridge going out. But I’m also ready to live,” Rhett said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it wouldn’t kill us to do things like make the house look nice, or have a steak dinner once in awhile. Or… or go on a date. Somewhere that’s  _ not  _ free. If you want to, anyway,” Rhett squeezed Link’s hand. “I mean that I want to live because you’re making me feel alive, and I know that sounds stupid and cheesy and like every bad romance novel on the planet, but it’s true, Link. I’ve got the last little bit of money that I got from my divorce in our room back home. And it’s not going to sit in a box anymore. Obviously. I’m burning the box, would be a waste to keep the money in it. But Link, we’re going to start living a little bit more. Okay?”

“Okay,” Link rubbed his thumb in circles on Rhett’s hand. “I think that sounds good, Rhett.” He smiled. The only life he ever knew was the one he had with Rhett, so he couldn’t necessarily relate to the idea of not really living. Everything with Rhett, good and bad, had been an experience, an adventure. But he could see where Rhett was coming from, and he was ready for whatever the journey was going to bring them. “I’m glad we’re both alive,” Link added. Rhett had said before that he understood why he had once wanted to die. But now, he wanted to live. They both did. And for Link, that flash of hope sounded just about right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to thatsrhinkbaby, mythical-trash, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading for me! See you Saturday.


	25. Burn

Link used the side of a butter knife to crack open the can of paint, carefully pouring it into the tray Rhett had bought that attached to the ladder. He was nervous and shaky as he climbed it -- he hadn’t been on the ladder since his mishap boarding the window -- scared he might fall and manage to injure himself again. His leg was finally healed, but the scar certainly wasn’t. This time, though, there were no howling winds. Instead, a soft gulf breeze took its place, enough to keep Link cool, but not enough to send him flying off of the ladder at all, or to make him drop what he was holding.

As Link rolled the first few stripes of paint on, he was glad Rhett had splurged on the expensive paint that included a primer. He was certain already the house would need two coats just to cover the blue that it had once been, and while he didn’t mind painting and repainting the lower part of the house, he was thankful to only need the ladder for the first two coats. Link admired the way the new yellow looked compared to the worn blue and knew he’d made the right choice to change the color.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Rhett smiled, poking his head out of the opening where the upstairs window had been. Rhett had carefully removed the remnants of the broken window while Link prepared the paint, and now it was an empty, exposed space waiting for the new window to be installed. The ladder was centered by the window, leaving Link only inches away from Rhett, so he leaned forward enough to give him a quick kiss.

“Gorgeous, huh? You looking in a mirror again?” Link quipped, trying to regain his balance on the ladder to resume painting.

“No, just looking at a very attractive painter,” Rhett said.

“And I’m looking at a very attractive crabber who just happens to be great at installing windows, too,” Link shot back with a smile.

“Well, we have yet to see about that,” Rhett grinned. “I haven’t installed it yet.” Rhett was nervous about breaking the window, about sending it shattering to the ground, so he took a deep breath, calming himself and trying to focus on the task at hand. Rhett slowly followed the instructions he’d been given, placing the window where it belonged and getting it securely attached and installed. By dinner time, the window was perfect and the front of the house had one fresh coat of paint. Link would work on the other coat tomorrow, then tackle the back of the house, but the difference was already striking.

Rhett guided Link down the driveway, standing near the mailbox, and wrapped an arm around Link’s waist so they could admire the house together.

“We did pretty good today,” Rhett sighed contentedly.

“We did,” Link agreed.

The night was quieter. Link was tired from painting, his body stretching in ways he couldn’t remember it having done before to tape and paint the house, and to keep his balance on the ladder. He helped Rhett with the ice packs for the crabs and he was used to cleaning, but this was a new skill set with a different requirement for attention to detail, and Link’s body was creaking and sore. Rhett was used to lifting crab traps, but installing a window worked differently, too. After dinner, Link washed dishes carefully, drying them and expecting to find Rhett in bed asleep when he got upstairs, given the way Rhett had barely spoken at dinner, exhausted from the energy he’d had to exert.

Instead, he found Rhett soaking in the large tub upstairs, a hot bath soothing his sore muscles. When he heard Link approach, he reached a hand out.

“Come here,” he asked, shifting himself in the tub. Link didn’t have to be asked twice. The tub could easily accommodate them both, and the water was steaming, exactly what Link needed. He stripped his clothes, stepping into the tub with Rhett’s steady hand to guide him. Rhett guided Link between he legs, encouraging him to lay back against his chest. His strong hands caressed Link’s shoulders and arms as he kissed Link’s neck. “Feel better?”

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Link said. His eyes fluttered closed and the two soaked until they were both practically asleep. As happy as Link was for their honeymoon period, and as much as he hoped it continued, he was happy that neither of them tried to initiate anything after the bath. Instead, they collapsed under the sheets, both naked and exhausted.

In the morning, Link was so soundly asleep that he didn’t hear Rhett get up to fetch crabs. He was still snoring peacefully and Rhett didn’t want to wake him. He missed Link’s constant presence on the back dock in the morning. Though they typically worked in a silent rhythm, it was nice knowing Link was out there to carefully lower the ice packs into the baskets to keep the crabs cool. He was happy Link was getting sleep. As Rhett hauled the last of the crabs to the truck, he heard the crunch of Link’s feet on the gravel behind him and a yawn that made him turn around.

“Sorry, I overslept,” Link muttered, rubbing his eyes. He’d obviously come straight down the moment he realized Rhett was gone, wearing an oversized cactus sweater he’d grabbed from Rhett’s closet and the boxers he’d been wearing the day before, probably snatched off of the floor from when they’d taken a bath. Rhett turned to Link after making sure everything was strapped securely into the back of the truck. He kissed Link’s forehead.

“Why don’t you go back to bed while I go sell these?” Rhett suggested. The last thing he wanted was for Link to feel the need to come with him when he was clearly exhausted from the work he’d put in on the house the day before. Link nodded slowly and sleepily, wrapping his arms around himself.

As Rhett climbed into the cab of the truck, Link gestured for Rhett to roll down the window. Rhett turned the crank on the door, rolling it down as quickly as he could.

“Love you, Rhett,” Link sleepily rubbed his eyes again, kissing Rhett. He was more affectionate in his sleepy haze.

“Love you, too,” Rhett said, and Link stepped back far enough to watch him drive away without getting his toes run over. By the time he made it back upstairs and inside, he no longer felt tired enough to go back to sleep. Instead, he started to feel the energy that came with the sun rising, so he poured himself a cup of coffee from the still-half-full pot Rhett made. It wouldn’t kill him to get to work, he figured, so he made his way back up the ladder and continued painting.

When Rhett got home the front of the house was almost done, the yellow paint looking brilliant. There weren’t any remaining blue patches peeking through the paint, instead a solid coat covering it.

“Gosh, Link, it looks so good!” Rhett called from the steps. Link grinned as Rhett held up a bag. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, but you’re already up.”

It didn’t matter that the original plan to bring Link breakfast in bed had failed, or that it was getting closer to their usual lunch time than it was to when they woke up. The fresh-baked muffins from the bakery were a treat regardless. Rhett settled onto the front deck of the house, his legs dangling off of the side as he held the bag out to Link, who sat down next to him. Link peeled back the wrapper on his muffin, taking a small bite.

“I think I want to set up the fire pit today,” Rhett said.

“Yeah?” Link asked. “Do you need my help or do you want me to keep painting?”

“You can keep working on the paint. It’s looking really good. I’m just going to put it together so we can use it tonight.” Rhett sighed and took a bite. “I… I kind of want to burn the stuff, too, though. Get it over with.”

“You don’t have to do it, you know? If you’ve changed your mind, or if you want to hang onto things, that’s okay,” Link said. “I don’t want you getting rid of it because you think you have to, or because you think I want you to. It’s okay for you to have a past.”

“It’s also okay for me to have a future, though, isn’t it?” Rhett asked. It was a dumb question and having a past didn’t exactly preclude him from having a solid future, but something about it felt like an anchor to a place that didn’t matter to him anymore, a person he wasn’t any longer. “I just want to let go, Link. It’s not who I am anymore.”

“Okay,” Link agreed. “If you want to burn it, you should.”

Rhett was sure. He’d never been more sure about anything in his life aside from Link. So as Link finished the front of the house and moved around to the back of it, Rhett set about building the fire pit. It was easier than he expected, starting with digging into the sand in the corner of his property. He arranged the cinder blocks in a small circle, offsetting them just enough to allow air inside, vents for the flame to get oxygen. It wasn’t a large fire pit, but it was enough. Rhett could only imagine him and Link sitting around it, nothing more than their tiny family.  _ Family _ , it hit Rhett. He and Link were a family.  _ Our house, our family _ . How Rhett became so deeply tangled up in a man without a past in a couple of very short months, he wasn’t entirely sure. But he delighted in it. Link was his, he was Link’s, and he was determined to get rid of the lingering memories that stood in his way of believing he was better than, more than, the past that held him back, a prisoner in his own mind. It was the one barrier that held him back from feeling like he would ever be good enough for the man who was painting his house.  _ Their  _ house.

* * *

 

Rhett struck a match and tossed it into the fire pit. Pieces of paper he’d used to start the fire caught, then spread the flame to the charcoal beneath. Link sat in the chair next to him, the one he’d carefully carried down from the balcony, and he watched as Rhett took a deep breath.

“You ready?” Link asked. Rhett lifted the lid to the box and examined the contents. He’d already stashed the money he’d been saving in the cookie jar on the fridge with the rest of his money that wasn’t in the bank. But everything else, it was all in there. He picked up the picture of him, of Max, on their wedding day. Link leaned against Rhett, looking over his shoulder. He watched as Rhett dropped it into the fire. The edges curled and blacked before the entire thing went up in flames, dissolving into ash quickly after.

Rhett picked up the newspaper clippings -- one of his accident, the one that detailed Max and Levi’s engagement, and a few other things Link wasn’t sure about and wasn’t going to ask what they were about. One by one, Rhett dropped them into the flames. They took to the fire faster than the photograph did.

“I have the original in a safe-deposit box somewhere,” Rhett said as he picked up the court papers from his divorce. He’d been advised to hold onto those, but the copy he’d been given had gone into the box with the rest of it. Into the fire it went, along with everything else he’d left behind. He picked up the Christmas card, the only one his parents had sent him since he’d come out. All it said was “We heard it didn’t work out. Sorry to hear that. We’d love to see you sometime. Your father knows a lovely girl about your age. -Mom and Dad.” It was a significant thing for them to reach out, but also a very clear stab in the heart that they didn’t accept him, not really. And if it had taken them five years to get word that Rhett was divorced, well, he wasn’t sure what rock they’d been living under. He hadn’t even bothered calling when he’d gotten the card. It said everything he needed to know. He dropped it into the fire.

The box was empty, save for the ring. He held it up and shifted it in his hands, between his fingers, looking at the flame through the empty space in the center where his finger had once been.

“I don’t think that will burn,” Link said softly.

“I think I’m going to chuck it into the bay,” Rhett said.

“Why don’t you sell it?”

“It’s cursed. Who’s going to want a cursed ring?” Rhett muttered.

“What about your ring is cursed?” Link asked. “Is it because things didn’t work out? Because of your wreck?”

“It’s because for five years I let my life go to hell because of this stupid ring and some stupid broken promises. It’s because of everything it represents and the wasteland that it made my life. It’s cursed.” The flames made the tears forming in Rhett’s eyes more obvious.

“Rhett, I know your life was hell and I’m not downplaying that. But you picked yourself up from a shitty situation from a man who didn’t appreciate you and you bought yourself a beach house on a gorgeous island. You found a career that allowed you time to read and enjoy the place you live in. And correct me if I’m wrong, but this ring was in your possession when we met. If it was cursed, if it being here cursed you in some way, then how did those things happen for you?” Link wrapped his arms around Rhett’s bicep and leaned his head onto Rhett’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I think you’re not giving yourself credit. And it kind of sounds like you’re saying you’re cursed because of some stupid ring, and the reality is, it’s just a hunk of metal.”

Rhett nodded and tucked the ring into his pocket. He picked up the empty shoebox and dropped it into the flames. He slipped his finger under Link’s chin, turning to him and looking him in the eyes.

“Meeting you is the least-cursed thing that has ever happened to me, Link. Don’t ever forget that.” He kissed Link softly, with love and intent, but soon it turned to hunger, to a need to put the past behind him in ways that burning things never could. Soon, Link worked his way into Rhett’s lap, snaking his arms around Rhett’s neck, pleading with soft moans and whimpers as he ground himself against Rhett.

“Are you sure?” Link asked, Rhett’s hands fumbling with Link’s shorts. He wasn’t asking about the curse-- he knew Rhett firmly believed that-- but he was instead asking if Rhett really wanted  _ this  _ after doing  _ that _ , wanted to swap fireside sex with Link for burning every memory he had before.

“I want to make new memories. I think we both could use some,” Rhett breathed against Link’s lips. So Link guided Rhett’s pants down, off of him and onto the sandy ground beside them. They’d started out in the chairs, finding their way down to the sand themselves shortly after. Sand was easy to get stuck in all kinds of places it shouldn’t be, but Rhett had laid out a blanket before they’d decided on chairs and it helped significantly. Rhett peeled Link’s shirt off of him, running his hands on Link’s body, his hands holding Link’s chin up as he found skin along his neck to kiss.

Heated moans followed as he stroked Link, Link’s back arching off of the blanket in the sand. He found himself crowding Link against the blanket, covering him with his weight, sliding himself between Link’s thighs with a little bit too much spit and his own precome. The pair moved in rhythm, coaxing any sounds they could get from each other, begging each other with pleas and promises. “I love you, I need you, you’re a godsend,” Rhett swore again and again. He was burning, not with the flame of old memories disappearing to ash, but with the heat of passion and honesty and love, with new beginning, his skin set alight every time Link touched him, kissed him.

Where his life with Max had been exploratory, a relationship built on young love and finding himself, his life with Link was something entirely different, something all-consuming, a relationship built on the trust that came with relying on each other for the world, with unconditional forgiveness, with unlimited chances to return to each other no matter how many times they worried and pushed each other away at first. This was different and Rhett could feel it. It was new but it was deep, quick but felt like a lifetime. He found himself struggling to remember his life before Link until he’d been presented with the hard evidence of who he once was, and now that those shreds of his life were gone, rising as smoke to the skies, he found it easy to forget again. Not to forget the mistakes he made when he was young and dumb and selfish, but to forget the hurt he felt from what he thought was true love, and learn to open himself up again.

  
Link  _ was  _ his love, something deeper than he’d ever be able to find again, he was convinced. And while Link had reassured him that he wasn’t going to run, it hit Rhett that he’d never promised the same to Link. So as Link came, as his voice echoed off of neighboring homes and the water and the sky itself, Rhett finished, and they both fell back to earth, breathing against each other as they came down from the high. Rhett propped himself up on one arm, looked Link in the eye, and said “I’ll never,  _ ever _ burn the memories I’m making with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading this chapter. See you Wednesday!


	26. Fresh Paint

Link stood back, admiring the three paint colors swatched on the wall of the empty upstairs bedroom. Neither of them were sure what to do with the bedroom yet, but the fact that it hadn’t been painted since before Rhett moved in made it the next target on Link’s paint crusade. Unlike Rhett’s room or the living room, they didn’t have to move any furniture to paint it, so they’d decided to tackle it first.

Link had been in the room four times that day, checking the swatches in various lighting and having Rhett offer up a second opinion each time. He was pretty certain, with or without Rhett’s opinion this time, that the one in the center, somewhere between pale pink and coral, was the right decision. He looked at the name on the top of the small can they’d purchased to test out the shades.  _ Hopeful _ . Sounded about right to Link.

“What do you think of this one?” Link called down the stairs. “I need one last opinion.” With the darkness settling around the house outside, it would be the last lighting they needed to test the paint in before making a decision. They’d already looked at it in early morning light, midday, and late afternoon. If it looked good now, they’d know it was the right one. They had to make the decision, though, so they’d be able to buy paint the next day after a trip to the grocery store and bookstore.

As August had faded into early September, Link had finished repainting the outside of the house-- the walls, the trim, the deck railings… he’d finished everything he could out there before turning his sights on the inside of the house, painting the rooms they didn’t use. Link figured if they got a fresh coat of paint, it would give him something to do. And maybe if they were painted, Rhett would figure out a way to use the empty rooms after all.

Rhett climbed the stairs as Link stood in the empty room, his eyes going back and forth between the swatches. He wasn’t sure why he’d called Rhett up there. They’d agreed on the center swatch every time that day, and Link was positive it was the right choice.

“Hmm,” Rhett said. He stood behind Link and wrapped his arms around him. “I think it’s clear we have to go with the one on the left.” The one on the left was Link’s least favorite, and he’d been vocal about that all day long. He turned his head to look at Rhett, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

“The left one?”

“I’m kidding,” Rhett said softly, pressing a kiss to Link’s shoulder. “The middle one is still my favorite.”

“Mine, too,” Link agreed. “Hopeful.” He spoke the name aloud and Rhett nodded.

“That sounds fitting.”

Link picked up the sample can and carried it with him downstairs so they could remember to take it with them when they went shopping the next day after they were done selling crabs. He looked at the dinner table, now empty of their plates but covered in stacks of sorted cash.

Rhett sat down at his usual spot and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, rubbing at them with a heavy sigh. “We should probably stop by the bank tomorrow, too,” Rhett said. Link settled into the chair across from Rhett and looked at everything in front of him. “You know, I’ve never really been able to trust not having access to my money.”

“What do you mean?” Link asked.

“Seems like when I was… when I was married to Max, we’d invest in something, and the market would do it’s thing, and we’d lose a little money. Or we’d have these damn pieces of paper, you know, stock paperwork and bonds and junk like that, stuff that said we had money, but it wasn’t money we could touch or feel or use for things that we needed or wanted. It was just imaginary money tied up in stuff, pieces of paper we’d keep for a lifetime and then pass on to our future children so they could hold onto the pieces of paper that say they have money that they can pass onto their kids…”

“But the bank--”

“I know the bank isn’t the same. I know that I can go and withdraw it easily. I know that. But ever since that, I’ve felt this… this need to go in the opposite direction. A new extreme. I get that it’s messed up, but I haven’t ever been able to help it.” Rhett was trying to justify his actions to thin air, to himself, fully aware that Link would support whatever it was he thought, regardless of if it made sense or not.

“Whatever you want to do with your money, Rhett, do it. It’s okay. If you want it in the jar, put it in there.”

“But I know it’s stupid.” Rhett drummed his fingers on the table. “If I keep it in the jar and something happens… the house catches on fire, or a hurricane wipes us out sometime… we’ll lose all of it. I know, realistically, and I can explain that to myself, that it’s a bad decision to keep it here. But it feels  _ real  _ when it’s here, like it can’t be taken away from me or be something untouchable.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s probably dumb, wanting to keep it here and wanting to know I can spend it when I won’t buy stuff.” Rhett sighed again. He was second-guessing everything he did, things he’d done for the past five years that now seemed strange as he tried to explain it to someone who didn’t know the method to his madness, regardless of how supportive he was. “Max would question everything I’d buy. Didn’t matter what… new shirts, he’d say I was spending too much on them if they weren’t for work or for dinner parties. Vehicles. We both drove nice cars, but anything recreational, he thought was a waste. I guess I have him to thank for how frugal I am now. Not that he was ever frugal-- I’d imagine he lives his life quite extravagantly still-- but that he didn’t support the things I wanted to spend the money on. A life… a life outside of work and impressing people. But then, I didn’t have a family to impress anymore.” Rhett shook his head and looked at the cash again, his fingers tracing over some of the stacks.

Link stood and carefully picked up half of the stacks sitting in front of Rhett, placing them on one half of the table. He picked up the other half of the stacks and placed them on the other.

“All of this is your money. You can spend it however you want. You can use it for beans and rice or steak and lobster, motorcycles or a part to repair your bike. It’s your choice now. I think it’s smart to save money, but it’s also okay to live. But what I’d say is if you’re worried about losing the money if it stays here and something happens, then you should take this,” Link gestured to half of the table, “to the bank. And if you’re worried that you won’t be able to access it easily enough,” Link gestured to the other half of the table, “then this goes back in the jar. Or we can get a fireproof safe to keep it here or something.” Link sat back down and watched Rhett, looking for anything that would signify a decision. Rhett quietly picked up part of the stack Link had intended for the jar, placing cash on each utility bill in front of him before folding the rest and putting it back into the jar.

“Okay,” Rhett said.

He’d spent five years of his life doing what Max told him, financially. Investing in things and being told not to touch the money he’d worked hard for, then scolded for using what he did have for anything that would lead to enjoyment. They collected money as if to have something to talk about at dinner parties and financial meetings -- my stock is performing better than your stock -- and purchased things that were appropriate to maintaining the appearance of that lifestyle, but anything outside of that? Not acceptable. Rhett couldn’t live like that.

Rhett was frugal now, the habit of spending money on things that pleased you being bad, wrong, beaten into his head with five years of Max questioning every purchase he’d made. But the thought of money he couldn’t see, hold, spend if he needed to had sent him in the opposite direction, hoarding what he had on-sight. He was in a strange place, somehow now both having the ability to spend the money but also the hesitation and feeling that he shouldn’t. Not that he shouldn’t be careful-- he still had the offseason to worry about, plus a new mouth to feed -- but that perhaps he’d gone too far in both extremes for it to be entirely healthy.

“You know this season has been my best?” Rhett looked at Link as he stacked up the rest of the money, the money intended for the bank, and placed it inside of an envelope. “I’ve never made more in a single season than I did this year,” Rhett said.

“Really? Did you do something different?” Link wondered.

“Yeah. I met you."

Rhett credited the extra income to Link’s ability to sweet-talk the restaurants, his smooth personality convincing them they needed the crab. With Link by his side, he’d somehow managed to talk Danny into not just buying more, but paying more for what he was buying. He’d also gotten JT’s to bulk up on crab, expanding their offerings and keeping more on hand. They were making fewer trips to sell to the mainland now, which meant more money in Rhett’s pockets over all. Link had even talked to the barbecue restaurant, which had never had an interest in crab, to start testing a crab cake on a specialty burger, with the crab meat for it coming from Rhett directly.

The man in front of him had done many, many good things for his income, that was absolutely certain. But Rhett knew for a fact that was the last thing that mattered to him about Link appearing in his life. It was just a small bonus that meant that having one more mouth to feed wasn’t so scary after all.

Rhett knew it was only a matter of weeks before they’d be out of work for the winter. He could already see the money dwindling, the need for businesses to buy crabs slowing down as tourists made their way back to “real life”-- the jobs, schools, and homes they’d been vacationing away from. The steady stream of travelers who kept the restaurants in hot demand were now leaving the island, and while condo owners would return for winter, it wasn’t quite the same amount of money he’d been used to.

It was also a sign that soon, the crab migration long over, the crabs would stop being widely available, too. For the winter months, there simply weren’t as many to catch. Rhett knew in the next week, he’d stop putting out all of his traps, and within the month, he wouldn’t even need to put out one. What he’d catch wouldn’t even be enough to sell. He’d be lucky if he caught a handful of them. He made a mental note to try anyway. Perhaps he and Link could have crabs a few times when there were too few to sell. It wouldn’t exactly be taking away from his income if it was out-of-season.

He found it hard to believe that the season was nearly over. It seemed like time had been moving so quickly. He wasn’t on the couch reading as much anymore. He and Link woke at the same time as he always did, up before the sun to gather the crabs and sell them, but with Link painting and Rhett chipping in his own help to make small repairs around the house, they were certainly spending less time sitting idly and reading and more time getting things done. Link had even dragged him back to the bird sanctuary a few times, not that he needed much convincing, and they’d gone for a few runs on the beach, too. Link had changed him for the better. Of course, they didn’t always fill afternoons with work or going places. Sometimes they enjoyed exploring each other’s bodies as much as they did exploring the island they both now called home. And, well, they still had stacks of books to get through.

But it was true, the season was ending, and soon they wouldn’t even need to be up before the sun. Rhett wondered if it meant they’d opt for later nights than they had now, or if they’d keep their schedule and find other ways to fill the time as they worked on the house. It was slowly becoming a home that Rhett could be proud of, one that he adored.

He was sure it wouldn’t be long before they were trying to figure out how to re-tile a backsplash. Link had mentioned it more than once, had considered the way the old grout seemed to collect dirt and how they’d be better off starting over. Rhett was in support of the idea. Link made Rhett the best version of himself. Rhett made Link the best version of the self he knew. And together, they made the house the best version of itself it could be, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading this chapter. See y'all Saturday!


	27. Getaway

Rhett closed his book and placed it on the table beside him. The sun was setting on the horizon and he was getting tired, almost ready to retire to bed even though it was still early. They’d woken early. Rhett had the idea that if they went to bed early, he and Link could find a way to pass the time until falling asleep anyway. He looked over at Link with warmth. Link was still reading, but peered over at Rhett across the top of his own book as soon as he sensed him looking.

“We should go somewhere,” Rhett said.

“The bird sanctuary? We could go again tomorrow if you’d like,” Link offered. They’d been a few times since their date, enjoying long walks and lingering quiet kisses. Link always looked forward to the days they’d go.

“No, I mean… I mean somewhere. Like a vacation or something,” Rhett thought about it. “I haven’t taken a vacation since I got here. Do you know that? Since I moved here I mean. I’ve barely left the area, haven’t gone anywhere past the grocery store at all, it seems like.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, Rhett,” Link smiled. “You barely left the house when I got here. And vacations cost money anyway. It doesn’t sound like your kind of activity.” Rhett chuckled. Link knew him a little too well for comfort, and while he appreciated having someone who understood him, he felt a little bit offended that he seemed too boring to have even taken a vacation just once. His face settled into a soft frown. “Oh gosh, Rhett, there’s nothin’ wrong with not taking a vacation, and nothing wrong with not being one to spend money on them. I was just saying I wasn’t surprised is all.”

“I want to go to Nashville.”

“Nashville?” Link asked. “Why Nashville?”

“Because I haven’t been. And because as far as either of us know, you haven’t, either. I’ve always wanted to,” Rhett said. He was resolved in this. The end of the season was weeks away, and at that time, they’d be free from the thing that kept them tied to the island they called home. Going, he thought, just made sense.

“Can we afford to?” Link wanted to go, truly he wanted to. But he had worries that Rhett would have some sort of buyer’s remorse if they went, worried he’d change his mind or second-guess what he had decided on if things got leaner later on in the winter.

“I’ll make it a cheap trip. We’ll only go for a few days, we’ll find a cheap motel or somethin’, drive up there instead of flying. It can’t take more than ten hours or so to drive it… we can tackle that in a day!” Rhett had thought about this. “And maybe we can find some off-season work if we need to. Danny might be needing to buy some fish this winter, or maybe we can convince the crew at JT’s that they could use a fresh coat of paint on their building.”

“Okay,” Link agreed. “Let’s do it. Just tell me when you want to go.”

* * *

Once it was settled and they’d agreed, Rhett could hardly wait for the last day of the season. Every day there were fewer crabs, and as he lowered fewer traps into the water that week, he knew it would be over any day now. On the final day, there were only three traps. As he lifted each from the water, they were barely-full, and he decided it was the end of the season. He placed the crabs in the bushel basket, then placed the basket carefully in the truck. It only took one stop, a trip to Miguel’s, to wipe him out of his stock entirely. As he placed the traps into storage for the winter, along with the baskets he wouldn’t be using, he decided to leave a trap out on the dock. Just because there weren’t enough crabs to sell didn’t mean that he and Link couldn’t finally enjoy some crabs. Even in the off-season, there was a good chance of catching one or two if you put the traps out.

Rhett climbed the stairs to the bedroom, buzzing with anticipation. It was still early in the day, early enough that they’d have plenty of time to make the drive if they started now. He’d told Link before he left that he was ready to go to Nashville any day Link was, and Link was always ready.

“All packed?” Rhett peeked his head into the bedroom and looked at Link, who was tucking his hand between the clothes and the bag, trying to hold them down to get it zipped. He and Rhett still shared a wardrobe, which made packing easier. After all, height aside, they weren’t much different in size. It didn’t make sense to bother with the expense of buying all new clothing for Link if he didn’t mind wearing Rhett’s clothes.  _ Their  _ clothes.

“I think so,” Link zipped the bag and tossed it over his shoulder. This was the first trip he could ever remember taking, and he was excited, his stomach feeling like it was somewhere in his throat with nervous anticipation.

Before they’d even pulled the truck out from under the house, Rhett had popped in a Merle Haggard tape and draped his arm across the center console for Link to take his hand. They’d buy a map at the first affordable gas station off of the island, but for now, they were going to head north, figuring that would get them where they needed to go.

For the first hour of the trip, Link talked to Rhett and sang along to the tape he’d memorized in the many times they’d listened to it. For the second and third hours, instead of playing navigator, he slept. After all, once they got on I-65, there was no need to get off of it until they reached Nashville. Navigation wasn’t necessary… they hadn’t even bought the map once they’d figured out that it was as simple as taking the path from Tillman’s Corner to Nashville.

It wasn’t until Rhett realized he couldn’t hold it any longer that he nudged Link awake, finding the first restaurant on the side of the road that he figured he could relieve himself at.

“Link… babe, wake up. I’ve gotta take a leak. Come on. Let’s get some lunch.” It wasn’t anything fancy, a simple Waffle House, but with Rhett typically being so restaurant-averse, Link was excited about the stop regardless. The only restaurant food he’d had in the months since he’d washed up on the beach were tacos and tamales from Miguel’s. Waffles sounded downright enticing, and he was excited to try something new.

He climbed out of the cab of the truck, wiping the sleep from his eyes and following Rhett inside. As he settled into the booth, Rhett found the restroom and Link found himself pouring over the menu trying to decide what he wanted. With so many options, he wasn’t quite sure what to get. He was used to Rhett going into Miguel’s and getting whatever he could, but now with so many choices, his head was swimming. When Rhett returned, drying his hands on his jeans, he settled into the booth opposite Link.

“What looks good?” Rhett picked up the menu and looked it over. “Don’t worry about price. We’ve got enough.”

Link had never expected those words out of the ever-mindful Rhett’s mouth, and studied the menu over again in case he’d ruled something out over price. The peanut butter waffles stood out to him, a must-have in a sea of endless menu items that seemed impossible to decide between.

“I’m getting the peanut butter waffles, I think,” Link smiled.

“Just waffles? I’m getting a t-bone and eggs, Link. And some hashbrowns with gravy. We might not stop for awhile so you should fill up.”

At Rhett’s encouragement, Link poured over the menu longer, lingering on eggs and pork chops, deciding to give in and order more just like he’d suggested. Under the table, Rhett nudged Link’s foot with his, leading them to a game of footsie that didn’t stop even when the waitress came to take their order. Link couldn’t suppress the grin from their silent intimacy, the way they were able to connect even in the simplest moments, like eating lunch in the middle of Alabama.

It didn’t seem like Rhett even took a moment to breathe, practically inhaling the first steak he’d had in ages. He’d planned to savor it, to enjoy the flavor, but he was starving. And after so long without a steak, well, he wanted it right away.

After lunch, Link tried his hardest to stay awake for the rest of the trip, but around the six hour mark, he found it impossible not to doze off in the passenger seat. Luckily, Rhett didn’t seem to mind, turning down the music and continuing the journey in the silence of Link’s soft snoring from his side of the truck.

Rhett didn’t expect the trip to be so quick, his previous ten-hour calculation being off by a solid two hours. Before the eighth hour of their trip, they’d arrived in Nashville, and Rhett found himself nudging Link awake for a third time as the city came into view. Both of them took in the sights through the windows of the truck, in awe of the biggest city they’d seen lately, the tiny island they called home paling in comparison. On the island, the biggest structure was a condo that couldn’t have been more than seven stories tall, but here? Impossibly tall buildings and bright neon lights stretched as far as they could see, music row solidly in view. It was getting late in the evening, so Rhett planned for them to get dinner and find a hotel, giving themselves plenty of time to explore in the morning.

Rhett hadn’t been honest with his plan to find a cheap motel, Link soon realized, as he found a tall hotel overlooking the center of the city, right in the heart of the music capitol. They were overlooking neon lights, and they’d be sleeping on the softest, plushest beds and crisp white linens Link could ever remember touching.

“This doesn’t feel like a cheap motel, Rhett. This has to be an ungodly price!” Link protested, peeling back the sheets on the bed. His protests were weak, though, as he sank onto the mattress, his body curling against the bed and feeling better than it had in awhile.

“Just this once, Link. Us coming here, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I didn’t want to cheap it out. I wanted to make it special,” Rhett defended the decision as he slid into bed next to Link, kissing him deeply. “I wanted us to remember this forever.” Rhett moved to grab Link’s wrists, tugging him to his side of the bed, and Link got the hint, shifting to straddle Rhett instead of laying beside him. “Remember all that I said about those papers that said I had money and not being allowed to spend it?” Link nodded as he changed the balance of their situation, moving his wrists to release them from Rhett’s gentle grip and instead pinning Rhett to the bed. “For this weekend, just this weekend, I don’t want to have money we can’t spend.”

“Okay,” Link kissed Rhett. “Then we won’t worry about it.” Rhett smiled in return, and Link decided they’d spent enough time talking about money. Instead, he started a gentle assault on Rhett’s senses and his own, burying his face against Rhett’s beard and inhaling his scent, kissing his way down Rhett’s neck and collarbones, lingering on each of his nipples with his fingers and his tongue. Rhett writhed beneath him, running his fingers through Link’s hair and rocking his body against Link, pushing his hard length to Link’s chest as Link worked his way down Rhett’s body further. He slid Rhett’s underwear down, tonguing at the tip and finding all of the right ways to make Rhett come unglued until he couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I love you,  _ gosh _ , I love you so much,” Rhett groaned as Link drew him closer to finish. “Please?” he asked, but Link was having none of it, desperate to show Rhett his appreciation for the weekend without any concern for reciprocation right then. They could focus on his needs later. Right now, he just wanted  _ Rhett _ .

Hearing Rhett cry out into the darkness of the room as he finished onto Link’s chest, neon lights still flashing through the open curtains, left Link in a state seeking release, and Rhett was more than happy to give in then, flipping them so he could work Link with his hand. “I want you,” Rhett whispered softly. Link nodded and pulled him into a kiss, which was all the permission Rhett needed. He found himself thankful that Link had taken so many naps that day, because he was certain they wouldn’t be getting much sleep at all.

As much as Link longed to spend the day in Rhett’s arms after a late night, they’d slept half of the morning away and neither of them wanted to waste their precious time in Nashville doing things they could just as easily have done at home. So Link pried himself out of the bed, hauling himself to the shower and cranking the water to a higher setting.

At home, he took quick showers, trying to conserve water and the expense that would result from longer showers. But in a hotel, there weren’t any concerns of that sort, so he took his time. For the longest time, he spent time standing under the water, letting it beat down on his skin like a hard rain, let himself think over how the last several months had changed his life. Or rather, how they hadn’t changed his life in ways that he could recall, but how far he’d come from the timid man who had once run from Rhett, who had spent long nights sleeping on picnic tables and hidden behind fort walls. Now, he was sleeping on soft hotel sheets, tangled in the arms of the man he loved. As lathered shampoo in his hair, letting the suds slid down his skin, he felt Rhett’s strong hands slide around his waist. Rhett turned Link, kissing his neck. Link arched at the touch of Rhett’s lips on his skin, driving his body against Rhett’s, pushing Rhett against the wall of the shower under the hot water. Rhett’s hands traced circles on his lower back as he held him close, Link running his tongue along the droplets of water on Rhett’s collarbone slowly, teeth teasing and begging for more from Rhett.

Link took Rhett’s hand and guided it from his lower back straight to the increasingly hard situation in front of him. “Please,” he sighed as Rhett got the message and started stroking him. He’d have to wander back into the room, wrapped in a towel, in search of a condom. He hardly minded, though, the water still hot when he got back into the shower. The beauty of hotel showers was that they’d stay hot no matter how long they took with each other. Rhett spread his legs apart as far as the shower would allow, eliminating the height difference between them and allowing Link the space he needed to ease inside of him. The groan Rhett gave out, the way he sighed against the cool shower wall, sent chills up Link’s spine despite the hot water pouring over them. They worked toward each other, Rhett urging his hips back and Link pushing up into him again and again until both of them were satisfied, cleaning each other up in the still-hot water.

As Link towel-dried his hair, Rhett watched. He found it hard to keep his hands off of Link, so he found himself standing behind Link at the counter, holding onto him as he watched Link towel off. Their bodies were still wet from the shower, and Link took his time, toweling himself off first, then drying Rhett off after.

“Do you think we should actually go see Nashville now?” Rhett suggested, both of them dried off.

“I think the city of Nashville would probably appreciate us putting some clothing on first,” Link responded softly, his eyes warm and full of love. “But yes, I’d like that.”

“Darn. I was hoping to see you under those neon lights tonight, and the clothes will definitely take away from that experience. I guess I’ll just have to manage with you clothed, then,” Rhett grinned.

Once they’d started exploring, it didn’t take them long to find their way into small music shops and eventually into a museum. Link watched as Rhett lingered in one of the stores they’d found, hands running along the strings of an acoustic guitar.

“Do you play?” Link asked, seeing the longing written all over his face.

“I did. I don’t now,” he sighed softly, his hands still not leaving the guitar.

“Play something,” Link urged, reaching around Rhett to take the guitar down from the rack and place it in his hands.

“I’m out of practice. I wouldn’t even remember where to start,” Rhett said, starting to put the guitar back where Link had gotten it down from. But Link’s hand on his arm stopped him, and he turned around looking for a place to sit. Within minutes, he was perched a chair, his fingers easily working over the strings like he’d never stopped playing. Link, failing to find a chair to sit in, found himself sitting on the ground at Rhett’s feet listening. Rhett’s fingers moved with skill, his eyes closing as he remembered notes he used to treasure like old friends, and Link watched the subtle sway in his body and the way he quietly sang along to a song Link didn’t recognize, his voice low and gravely. When the song finished, and Rhett returned from what seemed to almost be an out-of-body experience for him, Link rested a hand on his knee.

“Rhett, you should buy the guitar,” Link suggested.

“It’s so expensive. I left that sort of stuff behind ages ago,” Rhett sighed. He put the guitar back up on the shelf, but Link rested a hand on his back.

“What did you say about money this weekend? That we weren’t worrying about it, that we weren’t going to focus on holding onto money for a someday that might not come, and this weekend we’d just live. It’ll make for a nice souvenir if nothing else,” Link said. “If not this one, I’m sure we can find a more affordable one, but you should get the one you want. Besides, I’d like something to listen to by the fire pit when we get home.”

It was enough to convince Rhett to give in and get the guitar, not the one he’d been playing, but a much cheaper one in the back of the store, a floor model they’d offered up cheaper now that they were out of the particular kind it was advertising. Rhett didn’t care-- a guitar was a guitar. If Link wanted to hear him play, he wasn’t leaving without it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 10 chapters remain, y'all... see you Wednesday.
> 
> Thanks to thatsrhinkbaby, mythical-trash, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading!


	28. Uncursed

Link tugged on the boots Rhett had insisted they buy -- something to remember Nashville by, just like Rhett’s guitar -- and eyed Rhett. It was their last evening there, the three night trip going by quicker than Link had anticipated. “What’s the game plan for this evening?”

“We could go for a walk and see what catches our eye. Maybe there’s a concert or something tonight,” Rhett suggested. Link liked the sound of a walk, and he watched Rhett thumb through the remaining cash they’d budgeted for the trip. Luckily, there was still plenty left. The pair managed, hand-in-hand, down the busy streets of Nashville’s main drag. Rhett looked at signs reading SOLD OUT across the marquee and shows listed for dates they wouldn’t be there, but worried they’d have to change plans if they didn’t find something soon. Link pointed out a box office and they stopped to inquire, scrounging up one last pair of last-minute tickets to a show the opening act had already started for.

Rhett was thankful that it was a country show. When he’d first arrived in Nashville, he hadn’t realized that it was an epicenter for emo and alternative music, not just for country, and while he could appreciate anything, he definitely had a preference. Link, however, seemed open to any show they could find, but he was dressed in jeans and a white tee shirt, his new boots on his feet, looking right at home in the middle of a country concert in Nashville. In the dark auditorium, he couldn’t have looked better to Rhett.

They’d missed most of the opening act once they’d made their way inside and Rhett had bought them each a bottle of beer. It didn’t matter to Link, the music from the band already stirring something in his body, his hips swaying to the music.

Rhett couldn’t remember ever seeing Link seem so  _ alive _ , so passionate and flowing so gently. Outside of the bedroom, at least. He took a long swig of his beer, approaching Link and standing behind him, placing a hand on his hip and attempting to follow the movements. His body jerked, not as fluid as the soft circles Link was making with his hips, but Link didn’t seem to mind, backing up against Rhett and placing a hand on Rhett’s hand, guiding him into the right pattern.

It took practice, time spent like that, then finishing their beers and discarding the bottles so they could dance properly, facing each other. With their fingers entwined, Rhett melted into the music, Link’s head on his shoulder as they swayed slowly to one of the gentler songs of the evening. Rhett felt the music soak into his bones, straight to his soul, telling him how much he wanted to remember the moment they had right then.

There was something about the way Link smelled of hotel shampoo and the way he tasted of the most expensive cheap beer Rhett had spent money on in years, the way his eyes sparkled in the flashing concert lights and the way his tee shirt wrinkled under Rhett’s touch that made Rhett focus on every little detail intently. This was the life he’d longed for, even during the years he’d convinced himself he didn’t need anyone, and right now, he had the entire world in his arms,  _ his  _ entire world in his arms, and he didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to get off the crazy ride they’d been on since the day Link didn’t hear him shout a warning out while riding his bike.

But the song ended, and Rhett found himself twirling Link out of his arms and back into the position they’d been in before, one that allowed them both to see the stage and the band they were watching, to take in the full experience. It didn’t matter as long as they stayed close, practically connected at the hips, Rhett’s mouth finding its way to Link’s neck, then up to his ear. “You look beautiful,” Rhett whispered in his ear, and he could see Link’s smile in the way his ears lifted a bit, in the way that Link leaned his head back against him a little and searched for a kiss.

The concert was over sooner than either of them had hoped for, the last song fading into one final encore and then they found themselves back out on the streets of Nashville. It still felt early yet, too early to head back to their room on their last night of their brief vacation. Instead, Rhett found himself tugging Link into a bar, buying them drinks and nudging Link into a round of darts.

Unfortunately, Link was terrible at darts. It was only through extreme grace and great timing that another patron moved out of the way, narrowly missing a dart Link had thrown too hastily and off-target. It seemed, however, that his aim and his throwing ability actually improved with alcohol, with Rhett’s doing the opposite, until they were laughing too hard at their horrible skills to bother keeping score at all.

Instead, they found themselves at the jukebox, picking out music and eventually settling on the song they’d slow danced to at the concert. It may have brought the mood in the bar to a slower pace, but no one seemed to mind as many of them paired off, with Rhett and Link doing the same, finding a quiet corner to dance once more, Rhett’s hands rucking up the back of Link’s shirt slightly as he sought space for himself. He loved the night out together, but briefly wished they were alone at home so he could continue peeling Link’s shirt off over his head and onto the floor. Instead, though, he released the fabric and let one hand dip low, trailing down Link’s butt and giving it a small squeeze. Link yelped quietly and grinned, cock-eyed and cheeky, at Rhett’s small indication of interest.

“Thanks for bringing me to Nashville,” Link mumbled in his ear, almost standing on his toes and stumbling against him.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Rhett whispered back, pressing a kiss to the place where Link’s jawline met his ear. “Let’s find something to eat.” The song ended, the last few notes dying out as Rhett nudged Link toward the bar for a snack, something to sober them up just enough to walk home. They weren’t drunk, just tipsy, the buzz of alcohol in their veins to keep them loose and comfortable. Rhett didn’t want to get drunk, didn’t want to risk blacking out and forgetting a moment of their night.

Hand-in-hand, they made their way back to the hotel room, stopping in every nook and cranny of the lobby for a quick kiss. It didn’t matter that they’d had months together, time to get their need out of their system. That need was replaced by want, desire, a longing that sank deep into their souls and connected them by a thread that wasn’t easily broken, one that left them craving each other in moments like this, despite the desperation long wearing off since the storms they’d faced to begin with.

Link was exhausted by the time they got back to the room and Rhett could see it on his face, the sweat having run down his cheeks in the warmth of the concert hall. But his eyes sparkled with energy that wasn’t present in the rest of him, an excitement of doing something new and different. Link sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off his boots and placing them beside the bed. Rhett picked up the guitar and settled into a chair across from Link, trying to riddle out one of the songs they’d heard at the show, the one they’d slow danced to, searching for the right notes from memory and failing at first to find them.

“Hey, Link?” Rhett looked up from the guitar for a moment, studying the tired face of the man in front of him. “Why didn’t we ever try to find out who you were? Go to a doctor or something and see if there was some sort of DNA that would tell us, or see if there was a missing persons alert out?”

“I did. Or, I was going to at least. The day I came back to your house, when it was raining? The one where I didn’t leave after that? I was walking across the bridge when it started to rain so I came back to your house and asked if I could come in. And you let me.”

“But after that, why didn’t you ever ask me to try?”

“I didn’t need to know. I didn’t need to find out who I was… I was… I was too busy finding out who I am now. Does it matter who I was before everything happened? Before I showed up on the beach and then ran into you? Yeah, I could find it. I could realize I have a past I don’t want to remember. Or I could realize that I know who I am. I’m Link. I’m your… your…”

“My…?”

“That’s it. Just… yours, I guess.” Link tried to search for the right word to explain it and failed, then after a thoughtful moment looked up at Rhett and suggested “Your partner? Maybe? Is that what you’d call it?”

“Yeah. I’d say you’re my partner, Link. You’re a lot of things outside of that, too, you know.” Rhett smiled thoughtfully and placed the guitar beside his feet. “You’re remarkably good at painting. You’re a little bit clumsy.” Rhett moved to the edge of the chair, then to his knees on the floor in front of Link as he took both of his hands. “You like peanut butter and cereal. You’re amazingly good in bed, and you’re terrible at fishing.”

“See? I don’t need to look for who I am, Rhett. I  _ know _ who I am.”

“There’s only one downside to all of it, then,” Rhett nodded thoughtfully.

“What’s the downside?” Link furrowed his brow.

“I can’t marry you,” Rhett answered. The confused, almost sad expression that crossed Link’s face got Rhett moving quickly to clarify himself. “I  _ want  _ to marry you, don’t get me wrong. But I can’t legally marry someone who has no identity. There’s… there’s no way to get a marriage certificate for something like that.”

Link nodded and looked at his hands, folded gently between Rhett’s.

“The thing is, Link, it would be nice if we ever wanted to get married to be able to do that, to put it on paper and commit to ‘til death do us part’ or at least until you get sick of me or something, but we can’t do that and sometimes I’m sad about it.”

“If we ever wanted to?” Link pressed. “Rhett, I  _ do  _ want to do that. And sure, we can go with ‘until I get sick of you’ because the truth is, I’ll die before that happens. But Rhett, of course I want that for us. If I need to find out who I am to do that, if that’s what you want, I will do it.”

“Actually, I think I found another solution,” Rhett offered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two thin bands. “You told me my old wedding ring wasn’t cursed, and I believe you. I think somehow, somewhere along the way it got uncursed. It had to have, because I found you. And when I sold it, I bought these. Everything you’re saying, it tells me these aren’t cursed either, because we both want the same things. So sometime, when you’re ready, maybe we can skip the papers and the ceremony and the legal stuff and just acknowledge, between the two of us, that we’re together. I can’t marry you, sure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be my husband, or my partner, or whatever, anything you want to be really,” Rhett talked quickly, trying to get all of the words out that he’d so carefully rehearsed and realizing that nothing he’d planned to say came out the way he planned to say it, but it was meaningful nonetheless. Perhaps he was rushing things, or maybe he was asking something of Link that Link would never want, but he believed he was saying the right things and that someday, Link would decide he wanted that.

“Rhett?” Link squeezed Rhett’s hands gently.

“Yeah?"

“I’m ready when you are.”

Rhett didn’t expect his proposal, not so much a marriage proposal but a commitment at least, to turn into hastily written promises on hotel notepads, but it did. What they couldn’t have in legality, in ceremony with friends and family surrounding them, they made up for in the words they said to each other. It had been Link’s idea to write the things they wanted to say out, excused with a joke on his memory. “I don’t want to forget this, Rhett,” he’d said. Rhett didn’t want to forget, either, so he’d agreed, each of them writing down the promises they were committing to.

There was no real space in the room that felt right for such an intimate ceremony, but no space that felt wrong, either. In the end, Link found himself on the bed and Rhett back on the chair, this time moved closer to Link, until their knees touched. He held Link’s hand with one hand, his paper with the other, and smoothed circles on Link’s thumb. They’d agreed, somehow, on five promises each that they wanted to make, ones to signify that this was something important, as close to an actual marriage as they could get.

“I promise,” Rhett started “to never take you for granted.” It was simple enough, perhaps even obvious, but it was meaningful, a marked change from how he’d behaved in his first marriage, not that this could compare in any way, miles better than what he’d ever had before.

“I promise to give you everything I can,” Link offered, “even though I don’t have much at all.” Rhett wanted to protest, to remind Link of everything he gave in their relationship, but now wasn’t the time to disagree. It was a time to promise for the future.

He couldn’t help it, though. “You give plenty,” he said, before reading his next promise from his paper. “I promise to make love to you every night, or at least as often as you want to.” Link smirked at that, and Rhett wondered if it was too much, for him to bring up sex in what was essentially a set of vows. But Link’s soft nod and tilted head, his whisper of “every night, huh?” told Rhett he’d made the right choice to add it.

“I promise to remind you how much you matter to me,” Link said. The implication was clear-- Rhett hadn’t always gotten that kind of reassurance.

“I promise to help you find as much of your old self as you want to find, and to be there every step of the way as you find out who you’re becoming,” Rhett said. It was practically two promises, one to each part of Link, the new and the old. But Link was making promises to both parts of Rhett, too, the one that had been hurt before and the one that held hope for the future.

“I promise not to hold your excessive bean consumption against you, and to always remember to open the window so I won’t have a reason to take this promise back,” Link said, chuckling. Rhett gripped his chest, a full body laugh overtaking him at the fact that, mixed with soft, sweet promises to each other, Link had somehow worked farts into the conversation.

“I promise this won’t be our last vacation together, and to be careful that my frugality doesn’t get in the way of us living sometimes,” Rhett promised.

“I promise to continue working to make our house a home, one we can be proud of, perhaps one we can have a family in someday,” Link said.

“You want a family?” They’d never discussed it seriously before, though Rhett recalled the flash of a crib in his mind as he’d cleaned up the glass in the nursery, then again when they’d been picking paint for it.

“Someday, yeah. I’ll probably have to find out who I am for us to have a kid, or, I’d think I’d have to. They probably don’t let people who don’t know who they are adopt. But maybe someday, I’d like that,” Link added. It was impossible to keep their promises to just promises, not full-on conversations of the future, but they had all the time in the world to talk about that. For now, Rhett knew they were on one last promise to each other, one last thing that held everything they needed to tell each other, at least for now, at least in this set of vows.

“I promise,” Rhett took a deep breath, “to love you until the day that I die. And if it’s possible, to keep loving you after that.”

Link leaned his forehead against Rhett’s and squeezed his eyes shut. A tear slid down his face, not of sadness, but instead of pure joy and hope. He was refusing to think about Rhett dying right now, focusing instead on the last promise he had. “I promise that I will never forget the love we have for each other.” Link didn’t need to write that down on a paper to know he’d remember, but he was glad he’d done so anyway so they’d have a record of this for the future.

“I’ll never forget, either,” Rhett promised. They had so many more promises that went unsaid, more that they shared between the sheets that night, their last night in Nashville a whirlwind of emotion. As Link felt Rhett’s arm wrap around him, he twisted the thin band on his finger, a smile on his face. He slid it off of his finger, then back on. One word echoed in his brain as he closed his eyes.  _ Remember. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to mythical-trash, thanksrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading this! See you Saturday.


	29. Another Day

Time passed too quickly after their trip, it seemed. Link figured that the problem was not having anything in particular to mark the hours or days. They’d gone to the pub once or twice on the weekend once everyone at JT’s had convinced Link it was worth checking out, and Link had dragged Rhett along. And they’d gone for long walks at the bird sanctuary and the beach. All of that helped, but the days ran together too much, and it made Link sad that time was blurring ahead of him. He felt, for some reason, like he was running out of it, despite nothing to indicate as much. It was just this sense of time passing before they could make something of it, this sense of not really doing anything  _ substantial _ .

A trip to purchase tile kept Link occupied for days as he worked on the backsplash in the kitchen, updating it with bright blues and greens that reflected the bay behind them. He had his sights set on the bathroom next, another room to update. But as it stood, a full month into their promises to each other, their unofficial marriage that legally counted for nothing but that in their hearts counted for everything, days still went too quickly for Link’s liking. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. They had a lifetime together to cherish, Link believed, so the day-to-day shouldn’t have bothered him quite so much. But it did.

“What month is it?” Link mused aloud one evening, lying on the couch as he read his book. Rhett looked outside and wrinkled his brow, as if he’d be able to tell by sight alone, even though as Link could see, it looked no different than any other day. He pulled out a calendar from the drawer in the side table beside him.

“November,” he replied.

“Isn’t Thanksgiving coming up?” Link mused aloud. Perhaps, Link imagined, they could do something different for that day. It was easier to know what was happening during crabbing season, when they saw other people on a regular basis, but without crabs to sell, Link got the days mixed up easily.

“Looks like we passed it a couple of days ago,” Rhett said. “Why?”

“I just thought maybe we’d do something for it,” Link sighed softly. “Doesn’t matter now, though. Do you not do anything for the holidays at all?” 

“Link, I’ve lived alone for five years. It’s just another day for me.” He could tell that Link wasn’t content with the answer, that he wanted  _ more  _ and Rhett couldn’t blame him. Link had memories to make, and Rhett didn’t mind doing it. He just wanted Link to be happy. “What do you want us to do for the holidays?”

“I don’t know. I just thought we’d do something, make it special somehow.” It was going to be the first Christmas Link could ever remember, and he didn’t want it to be just another day. They could do something, anything to start a new tradition together, as long as they didn’t spend the holidays re-tiling backsplashes and reading books.

* * *

 

Link painstakingly arranged the last of the tiles against the wall. He was almost done, and Rhett found himself leaning over the kitchen island to watch, to see the final bits fall into place.

“What are you planning on after this?” Rhett asked.

“The upstairs bathroom, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. But what about outside of the house? What do you want to  _ do _ ? Just this? Fix the whole house up?”

“I like doing this. I hadn’t really thought about stuff outside of it.”

“If you could do anything, though, you don’t know what you’d do?” Rhett asked. “Surely it’s not re-tiling the whole house.”

Link stayed quiet, holding a tile into place and biting his lower lip in thought.

“Maybe I’d write a book,” Link paused, turning to Rhett and studying his reaction. “Is that silly?”

“Why would that be silly?” Rhett asked. “I don’t think it’s silly at all. What do you think you’d write about?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience at all with anything. I guess I have a lot of experience with not remembering anything. Perhaps no one would be interested, but I wouldn’t mind telling my story, something about what it’s like to live after forgetting everything. I haven’t thought much about it, though,” he sighed.

“We’ve got the empty upstairs bedroom,” Rhett offered. “If you wanted to write there, you could. We could get a desk in there, at least let you get some thoughts on paper and see if you want to do something with it.”

Link nodded and turned back to the tile. “Okay, I’d like that.”

Rhett figured eventually Link might need a computer, something a little more serious than pen and paper, but at the moment, all he could swing was a desk and a notebook. For now, if Link could have a space that was his, maybe he’d feel like he could explore something new. Rhett didn’t mind the company of Link sitting in the living room reading or being in the kitchen re-tiling, but he worried he hadn’t given Link an opportunity to explore himself, instead pushing his own hobby of reading off on him without any consideration at all. A room sounded like the right place to start.

* * *

“What the crap, Rhett?” Link gritted his teeth, the annoyance written all over his face. “That’s not going to work.” Rhett was insistent, though, as he screwed the board into place. As he released it, it became clear quickly that Link was right, and they’d had the angle all wrong to get the right support. The boards fell to the floor with a loud crack, a split becoming obvious in one of the larger pieces of wood. “Great, now the wood’s broken,” Link huffed.

“If you’re such a freakin’ pro, why’d you ask me to help, then?” Rhett snapped. They’d been at each other’s throats for over a day now on the desk, having issues with measuring and with cutting, disagreements on the size they’d needed in the first place. Despite all advice to never go to bed angry, they’d faced away from each other to fall asleep the night before. No one had been forced to the couch, at least, but it was a far cry from the way their bodies usually tangled with each other.

“Because I  _ thought _ this would be something fun we could do together!” Link threw the tool that was in his hand to the floor, leaving a mark in the wooden floor under their feet. “Sometimes people are just wrong, though, aren’t they?” Link yelled, stalking out of the room and storming down the stairs.

His eyes stung with tears as he made his way out the door to the back deck. It was cold, colder than one would expect a gulf island to get, and as Link walked to the dock he could feel the cold breeze blowing frigid air across the bay. Link shivered, the sweater doing little to hold off the cold that cut to the bone. It didn’t matter, though. He needed the space, and the cold, to stave off the heated frustration he felt from building the desk with Rhett.

Link could tell he was moments away from a full-fledged sob by the way his nose started to drip and his body shook with deep breaths. He loved Rhett with his heart and soul, but seeing eye-to-eye on the desk was proving impossible.  _ If he wasn’t such a know-it-all _ , Link thought. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around himself to shield his body from the air but also to squash the anger he felt inside.

Link didn’t hear the footsteps behind him, but he did hear the soft “I’m sorry,” Rhett said as he approached. “I should have listened to you… you were right. It needed more support.” He opened his arms, an invitation for Link to step into them if he wanted to.

“Can you repeat that?” LInk asked, taking the invitation and leaning his head against Rhett’s shoulder. Even though he was still annoyed, Rhett was apologizing, and besides that, Rhett had body heat that could help with the chill in the air.

“It needed more support,” Rhett repeated.

“No, the part before that,” Link urged. Rhett narrowed his eyes, catching on to the game Link was playing.

“The part where I said I was sorry?” He asked.

“No, after that part.”

Rhett let out an exaggerated sigh, then squeezed Link tighter in his arms. “You were right,” Rhett waggled his head mockingly. “Okay?”

“You were right, too,” Link said. “Not enough support. Not for the wood. Not for us. I should have been more encouraging.” Link rested his head on Rhett’s chest. A day and a half of bickering, and Link was over it. “Can we just scrap this project and use the wood for something else? Something a little less ambitious?”

Rhett nodded. “Sure. The kitchen could use a shelf. I’ll let you take the lead on it, and I’ll just do what you say.”

“You’ll do what I say?” Link grinned coyly. “I really like the sound of that, Rhett.” He lifted himself up on his toes ever-so-slightly, placing a hand behind Rhett’s head to draw him down into a kiss. “So we’re done fighting over the desk?”

“Yeah, we’re done fighting,” Rhett agreed. They could find a desk somewhere else.

* * *

 

Link had been hard at work on the upstairs bathroom when Rhett returned from the grocery store. Usually they went together, but Link was so focused on what he was doing, removing tile from the floor, that he didn’t bother leaving to go with Rhett.

“Hey, Link,” Rhett called, nudging the door open with the meager bags on his wrists. They were still eating beans and rice mostly, though Link had added cereal and peanut butter to their diet long ago, but today Rhett had something special in store. “Honey? I’m home!”

He heard Link’s footsteps on the stairs and placed the bags on the counters. Link wiped his hands on a hand towel tucked into his waistband, then lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his brow. He’d clearly worked non-stop during the time Rhett was gone, the exhaustion written all over him.

“Hey,” Link said, sidling over and reaching into a bag to help unload.

“I have a surprise,” Rhett said. “It’s not a big one, don’t get excited.” He moved to a bag that had been on his side of the counter, opening it. Inside was a small package of chicken breasts, two sweet potatoes, a bag of green beans, canned cranberries, and a couple of hand pies.

“What’s that?” Link asked. He knew what it was, obviously, but he didn’t know why Rhett had bought things they didn’t typically eat, things that didn’t hold up to their usual grocery budget.

“Thanksgiving dinner,” Rhett said.

“Rhett,” Link shook his head, walking over to Rhett’s side table drawer and pulling out the calendar he’d seen Rhett with. “It’s December third.”

“It is. But we missed Thanksgiving, and it was important to you, the holidays. Hell, it can be a new tradition. In this house, we celebrate Thanksgiving on December third instead of in November. The Canadians have their own day for it, don’t they?” Link smiled and shook his head, placing the calendar back in the drawer and closing it.

“December third it is, then,” Link agreed. “If we’re doing this tonight, then I guess I better get cleaned up.” Rhett nodded encouragement and shooed Link out of the kitchen so he could work on fixing dinner. He was going to make it the best Thanksgiving either of them had ever had, whether or not Link could remember it was the best, even if it wasn’t Thanksgiving at all.

Link came down from getting cleaned up looking downright dapper, and Rhett felt underdressed for the occasion, even if it was just dinner between the two of them. It didn’t matter. The chicken breasts were cooking and he had time to run up and change his shirt at least. He did, and returned to Link upping the ante even more, setting the mood with candles in the middle of the table. They weren’t exactly table candles, instead candles left over from the hurricane, but that only made them more special in Rhett’s mind. These were the candles they’d made love in front of for the first time, and now they were using them for their first holiday together.

It was hard to keep his focus on dinner, hard to pay attention to the flavors he wasn’t used to enjoying. He wanted to pay attention to it, to think about how good the cranberries and sweet potatoes tasted, but all he could think of was Link, how content he looked.

“You know,” Link said around a mouthful of sweet potato, “the last time we used these candles, we… uh…” He waved his fork, searching for the right words and chewing his food.

“I remember. I feel like these candles have a legacy, or… or a tradition to them. It would be rude of us to break the tradition,” Rhett suggested. So even though he’d worked hard to prepare the dinner, and even though his suggestion had been one for them to consider after dinner, both of them found their meals half abandoned because at those words, Link immediately placed his fork on the table and walked around the table. Rhett scooted his chair back and started to stand.

“Stay,” Link said. He placed a leg over Rhett’s, sitting down on his lap and straddling him. It took only moments for his mouth to find Rhett’s, for them to shift into a steady rhythm of soft kisses, Link grinding slowly against him, working his hips in slow circles. Rhett’s hand cupped his backside, another hand resting on Link’s lower back to keep him steady. Link was hungry, not for the food, but to really show Rhett his thanks. For him, thanks wasn’t something he could just say, even if it was their Thanksgiving. Thanks was something he wanted to breathe into Rhett’s skin, to trace on his body with lips and fingertips, and as good as they both looked, more dressed up than usual, he was ready for their clothes to find the floor.

He was slow and deliberate about it, though, taking his time to make it special. He planted a kiss on Rhett’s neck. “I’m thankful for your patience with me,” he whispered in Rhett’s ear. He reached behind himself to grab Rhett’s hand, pulling it to his lips and kissing Rhett’s fingertips. “I’m thankful for these strong hands and how they are so good at catching crabs…” Link started. He took one of Rhett’s fingers in his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and eliciting a soft moan from Rhett. “But I also love how you use these strong hands on me.” Link shifted, pulling Rhett’s shirt off and placing it on the ground beside them.

As his lips reached where Rhett’s heart would be, he kissed his chest and then pulled back to rest his fingers there. “I'm thankful for how your heart loves me,” Link said. He flicked a tongue over Rhett’s nipple, felt the shiver he'd come to know so well, the low groan that Rhett let out. “And I'm thankful for  _ that _ , that thing you do when I do that.”

Link worked his way down, and when he was peeling Rhett’s jeans off of him, he found Rhett placing a hand on his chin to stop him for a moment.

“Link, I’m thankful we have a couch we can move this to,” he grinned. Link shook his head and smiled, standing and following Rhett across the room. Their hands never left each other’s for a second, fingers entwined as they moved. The couch wasn’t far away-- a matter of feet, if they were being honest-- but it didn’t stop Rhett from stopping them halfway and sneaking kisses from Link, pressing his lips to Link’s adam’s apple and feeling the soft whimper as much as he heard it. He laid Link back on the couch, tugging his pants off of him and leaning across him to kiss him deeply. Link’s hands were already fishing around the couch cushions for lube and a condom, which he passed to Rhett. He was leaving the choice in his hands, how he wanted this to go.

Tonight, Rhett was thankful to receive, feeling Link inside of him as he rocked his hips and sought out deeper contact. Link loved watching Rhett, loved the way he looked like this, and he wrapped his hand around Rhett to make sure he got everything he needed. They were slow and gentle with each other, careful and passionate. The candles from the table flickered and in the mostly-dark room, Link could make out the shadows and highlights of Rhett’s body, the way his golden hair glimmered with the glow of candlelight. They hadn’t used the candles since the hurricane, since the first few times they’d been together, but the feelings were still just as strong, deep love that resonated intensely in their souls. Rhett cried out as he came, with Link following behind him. Neither of them moved from the couch, waking the next morning to find the candles had burned themselves out and their dinner was on the table cold.

Link blinked open his eyes and Rhett smiled, planting a kiss just behind his ear. “Thank you, Link.”

“For what?”

“For suggesting we celebrate Thanksgiving. It turns out this year, there’s a lot I’m thankful for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks always to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading, and to clemwasjustagirl, my forever muse who told me this chapter wasn't as awful as I worried it was.


	30. Vinyl

“Would you feel comfortable getting groceries by yourself?” Rhett asked weakly. “I’ve got the list on the counter. The usual stuff, plus the Christmas stuff.” He looked downright clammy, even though Link didn’t feel any fever. He’d just walked out of the bathroom looking a little bit off. If Link didn’t know any better, couldn’t tell by Rhett’s tone of voice, he’d assume that he had spritzed his face with water to affect the sweaty, clammy appearance, but he knew Rhett better than that.

“Okay, I can do it,” Link offered. “Oh, wait. What if I get pulled over?” He’d never driven off of the island, only taking a few quick trips to Miguel’s or something with Rhett in the car. He knew he  _ could  _ drive, but if he got stopped, he’d be screwed with no ID.

“Tell them you left your ID at home, apologize profusely, and if they follow you back here, we’ll figure it out when you get here,” Rhett said. “You won’t get pulled over, Link. You can do this.”

Link agreed, he could. He would drive carefully and be safe, and he’d make it home without getting pulled over, he convinced himself. He plucked the list off of the counter it had been placed on the day before, then fished money out from the cookie jar off of the counter. It was almost Christmas, and Link made a quick decision. He pulled out a few extra bills, certain Rhett wouldn’t mind once he knew what he had planned. And if he did mind, Link would deal with it later. He wasn’t about to let Christmas go by without doing something special for it. He folded the cash carefully and placed it into his pocket.

“I’m heading out,” Link hollered up the stairs. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? Powerade? Some Advil?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” came Rhett’s weak voice from upstairs. “Take your time. I’m just going to take a nap.”

Link had never seen Rhett so ill, and he was worried. He made a mental note to at least pick up a can or two of chicken soup just in case.

The drive to the store was easy enough. Link could have probably driven it with his eyes closed for as many times as he’d gone there in the passenger seat. He had no trouble finding it, grabbing the things he needed quickly. Rhett had trusted him to get all of the fixings of a traditional Christmas meal, so Link was relieved that Rhett had spelled it out for him. He knew what he thought he might pick up if it was left up to him, but he wanted to make sure that he got what Rhett wanted. In place of chicken breasts, though, he found reasonably priced game hens that seemed a little more special. Link added them to the cart and hoped Rhett wouldn’t mind the swap. With the addition of the things he thought might help Rhett feel better, soup and medicine, he was done shopping and loading the car.

But Link had one more stop to make, the one he was sure Rhett wouldn’t mind, or at least, he hoped for as much. They’d only been there once and Link had a slight concern he’d be unable to locate it, a small shop that was part antiques, part thrift goods, one where they’d ended up buying a cheap desk for Link after being unable to build it or find a suitable one on the side of the road. Link searched the aisles and prayed the item he’d seen a couple of weeks before was still there, a small turntable for playing records. It was the kind of thing Rhett would never buy for himself, but the kind of thing he knew Rhett would love. It was something he could treasure, listen to when he wasn’t playing his guitar, or turn on while he read a book. With a little digging, he finally found it in a different aisle, tucked beside a stack of records.

It didn’t take him long to find three Merle Haggard favorites in the pile, most of them at pennies per album. He didn’t know what else to get and found himself wishing he could find an album from the band they’d seen in Nashville, but the chances of that were slim and even after asking, he failed to find it. It was too new. Instead, he found a few other artists Rhett had casually mentioned, like Lionel Richie. He was able to spend just under his limit on the albums, receiving only coins in change as he’d spent the rest. He was impressed with himself for not going over if he was being honest.

He had to go home soon, knowing that if he was gone much longer, Rhett might send out a search party if he weren’t still sleeping off whatever was ailing him, but he didn’t want Rhett to see the purchases quite yet, not before he was ready to give him the gifts. He found himself sitting in the bed of the truck wrapping the gifts with paper and tape he’d bought at Walmart. He’d forgotten scissors, so he folded the paper, bending it over the bed of the truck and trying his best to tear a straight line. It didn’t look great, but it would work.

* * *

 

The second Link left for the store, Rhett found himself stripping out of his pajamas and throwing on his clothes, racing against the clock and however long he thought it might take Link to get groceries. He’d been carefully planning since Thanksgiving, or, since December third when they’d celebrated it. Christmas was going to be something special, not just another day.

Under the house, in the storage room where Link never looked because it was only full of crabbing supplies anyway, Rhett had carefully placed a tree and some lights, things he’d picked up while out selling fish or picking up groceries, whatever errands he could run without Link realizing what he’d been doing. He carefully set up the artificial tree in the living room. It was sparse, a floor model he’d found at the store, but it was theirs, and he found himself carefully stringing lights anyway. He placed a box of ornaments beside the tree in hopes they could decorate it together, but at least the lights would be ready when Link walked in the house. Rhett had leftover lights and strung them behind the couch and around their bed upstairs, figuring it could bring a little Christmas cheer to the other rooms they were in. Finally, he returned once more to the storage room and carefully brought out the one thing that mattered most, the gift he had selected for Link. He was certain Link would never expect it, and he had high hopes he’d be thrilled.

He wasn’t sure what was taking Link so long to return, but he was thankful that it gave him plenty of time to get everything set up. But when Link still wasn’t home well after he’d finished, he was worried. Rhett turned off all the lights in the house, plugging in the strands of Christmas lights and settling into his chair. There was just enough glow from the Christmas tree that he could read, but soon he found his eyes slipping closed and his book drooping in his hand.

Link arrived home and saw no sign of Rhett outside, so he quickly picked the gifts out of the truck bed and placed them in the storage room. He was sure Rhett wouldn’t look there. The only things he stored in there were crabbing supplies and the fishing poles, so he was safe until Christmas. It didn’t take but a couple of minutes to stash them, and then Link was heading up the front steps with the grocery bags in his hands. He fumbled with the keys, nudging the door open to find the house dark, a strange glow overtaking the room. Rhett was sound asleep, the book in his hand.

“Rhett?” Link asked. His eyes were wide at the Christmas tree standing tall and fully lit in the room just beside the bookshelf. “What’s this?” Rhett blinked his eyes open, then sat up straight and tried to compose himself. He’d wanted to see the look on Link’s face when he walked in, and being sound asleep and missing it hadn’t been part of the plan.

“Merry Christmas,” Rhett answered. “Or… Merry December 22nd. But close enough, right?” Link placed the bags of food on the floor and rushed to Rhett, kissing him without any concern for him being ill.

“But you’re sick. You shouldn’t--”

“I’m not sick, Link,” Rhett answered. “I splattered my face with water so you’d think I was.” He affected a sick rasp. “See? I’m fine,” he corrected his voice and pulled Link in for another kiss. “I wanted to surprise you and had to get you out of the house.”

“You jerk!” Link said, giving Rhett a soft, playful shove. “I was worried about you. I even brought you chicken noodle soup.”

“Oh, honey,” Rhett softened, pulling Link close. “Thank you.”

“It looks beautiful,” Link said. He returned to the groceries and plucked them off of the ground, placing items in the fridge and getting things where they belong. Rhett came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Link and burying his face in Link’s neck.

“Can we celebrate Christmas tonight?” Rhett pleaded.

“Why do you want to celebrate tonight?”

“Because I can’t wait for it anymore,” Rhett sighed. He’d been waiting for three weeks, hiding everything from Link, and now that he’d revealed it, he didn’t want to wait a second longer. Thankfully, neither did Link.

“How about we decorate the tree tonight and have dinner tomorrow?” Link wanted to give Rhett his gift right that second, to rush through it, but another part of him wanted to savor it, to take their time. It was getting late anyway, too late to make dinner. It was easy for Rhett to agree to that, to let them take their time and relish the holiday. Celebrating the day before Christmas eve sounded reasonable, not too hasty.

That night, Rhett reached high to place the ornaments on the highest branches. Link was plenty tall to reach the top, but he didn’t mind crouching or kneeling to place them lower. Link rested his head against Rhett’s hip, admiring their hard work. “We make a good team, Rhett,” Link said softly. The tree was decked with almost all of the ornaments they had. Link picked up the star from the bottom of the box, passing it to Rhett. “The good thing about our little family is that there’s never any trouble putting the star on top of the tree. We can both reach it.”

“Our little family?” Rhett asked. “I like the sound of that.” Rhett took the star from his hands, then paused. “Don’t you want to do this part?”

“No. I want you to do it,” Link said. Rhett placed it, straightening it atop the tree. “It’s beautiful, Rhett.”

It was easier waiting when the two of them curled up on the couch and watched the twinkling lights on the tree. It didn’t take long for watching to become kissing to become the lights paying witness to their love for one another as they melted against each other, underneath each other, completely entwined and the lights almost forgotten, save for the way they twinkled off of bare skin.

The next morning Rhett couldn’t contain his excitement. He woke up like a kid on Christmas morning, perhaps because he remembered that it  _ was  _ their Christmas. But when he turned, Link wasn’t beside him. He stood, rubbing his eyes, then checking to see that the bathroom door was open and Link wasn’t in there.

“Link?” he called out, swinging open the bedroom door to see Link jiggling the lock to the office.

“The door’s jammed. I was going to write something down and I can’t get in,” Link said, exasperated.

“It’s not jammed,” Rhett said calmly. “It’s locked.”

“Why… why exactly is my office locked?” Link furrowed his brow. Why would Rhett have locked the office -- his office -- and kept him out of it?

“I’ll show you later. It’s Christmas, isn’t it?” Rhett smiled a wide grin, doing nothing to reassure Link about the office being just fine. “Our Christmas, at least,” he offered. There was no need for them to be up early at all, because the only events they had going on were to give each other gifts, despite not knowing the other had gotten them anything at all, and to make dinner.

“Maybe our tradition is not celebrating holidays on the day they’re supposed to be celebrated. Maybe we’ll ring in the new year in March, or celebrate Valentine’s Day in September,” Link quipped, finding his way down the stairs and giving up on the office lock altogether. If Rhett said he’d show him later, he would.

“It hasn’t been  _ that  _ far off!” Rhett protested, smiling. “We’ve only been a few days off so far.”

Rhett, determined to make the day special, found himself driving to the bakery with Link in the passenger seat. If they’d celebrated on the actual day, or even on Christmas eve, the bakery would be closed for the holidays. But on December 23rd, it’s still open, which meant they could easily get their breakfast before the bakery took a break for the holiday season. Rhett bought cinnamon rolls, plus muffins for the next day, and they considered eating them on the porch outside of the bakery. The cold air had other plans for them, though, and they sat inside eating. They took their time, both of them overwhelmed by the anticipation of the day ahead.

When they arrived home, Rhett was at a loss for what to do. All he wanted was to give Link his gift right away, but he felt like he should wait until after dinner. And dinner immediately following breakfast didn’t sound like the right idea, either.

“How about we go to the beach?” Link suggested. It was cold, down in the 40s and they’d both need sweaters, but Link wanted to spend time with Rhett, to get out of the house and stop them from being so anxious about the afternoon ahead. But as Rhett tugged his sweater on and they drove up the street, police cars stopped them up. Rhett tried to get closer, to see what was going on, his eyes fixed on flashing lights. Link’s heart leapt in his throat. Was there an accident? He couldn’t be sure from this far back. They approached quickly, the island so small that getting there took less than a minute.

“What the heck is happening?” Rhett asked. But when he pulled over to the side of the road it was clear. Rhett had forgotten completely, mostly because he never went, that it was the annual Christmas parade. “Well, I guess we could watch the parade,” Rhett offered.

It was one of the small quirks of the tiny island, one that appealed to the tourists that spent their Christmas break in a less snow-covered location than their own home, but mostly to the locals that came back for the entire winter or lived here year-round. Christmas on the island was almost as big as Mardi Gras, each commemorated by a parade.

Rhett had never been much of one for the Christmas events on the island, but sitting next to Link on the side of the road, nestled in the cool grass with a blanket Rhett had hastily grabbed from behind the seat of his truck for when he and Link had gone on picnics when it was warmer, it was nice to watch. Everyone seemed excited, happy, anticipating the holiday that was just around the corner, and the joy was contagious. Rhett found it hard to imagine his isolated Christmases before when he had his entire world sitting right next to him, enjoying the parade and waving at the children who were waving from the floats they were on.

The parade was short, considering half the town was in it and the other half watched with anticipation. It didn’t take long to get through everything, but Rhett figured they hadn’t missed much at all. When the parade ended, he and Link had effectively killed another half hour of their day, the parade and then the slow movement back to vehicles taking a few minutes, so they abandoned all plans to go to the beach and instead found themselves heading home. Rhett figured they could find ways to kill time indoors, ways that didn’t involve the cold air coming across the island.

Rhett tried and failed to nap. Link tried, too, eventually succeeding, but only after Rhett had thoroughly worn him out. Instead, Rhett found himself cuddling with Link until he couldn't stand the wait any longer, then heading to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner, their Christmas dinner that Link had purchased. They’d even forgone hand pies for an actual pie this time, and Rhett couldn’t be happier.

He would have been happy to skip Christmas dinner altogether, though, to see the look on Link’s face when he got his gift. For Rhett, it didn’t even matter that Link hadn’t gotten him anything. He didn’t need or want anything besides the look on Link’s face when he saw what Rhett had taken care to keep secret from him for so long. But Link came downstairs, admiring the hard work Rhett had put in as he pressed his face to Rhett’s shoulder, leaning against him and wrapping arms around his waist. “It all looks so good, Rhett,” Link sighed, breathing in the smell of the baking hens and the rolls he’d bought, frozen but still good enough.

“Thanks,” Rhett sighed. He placed his arms over Link’s and closed his eyes, taking in the fact that for the first time in ages, Christmas meant something again.

Link was eating far too slowly for Rhett’s comfort, though. Rhett shoveled his food in, wanting to savor it and failing to, too excited for what came next. But when Link’s plate was clean, Rhett was told to wait some more. “I… I need to do something. I’ll be right back.”

“Can it wait five minutes? I want to show you something,” Rhett insisted.

“It can’t!” Link insisted. “It’s important. I promise I’ll be right back,” Link said. “Please.” He couldn’t wait another moment, and as Rhett agreed, Link found himself rushing to the storage room under the house. He pulled out his wrapped gift for Rhett, wrapping his arms around it and struggling not to drop it as he carried it up the front steps. He nudged the partially open door open the rest of the way with his hip, then closed it with his foot as he got inside.

He placed the items on the cleared kitchen table. “Please don’t be upset. I took some money from the cookie jar and got you something. It’s not much but I wanted to do  _ something _ for you for Christmas.” Now that he had them set out in front of him, now that the reality of taking money without asking Rhett before making a purchase, knowing how tight things were in the off-season, left him second-guessing. He didn’t expect Rhett would be mad, not in the slightest, but the fact that he might have set them back somehow worried him. His chin quivered as Rhett crossed the room and wrapped his arms around him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Rhett insisted. “But thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you see it,” Link said quietly.

“I already know I’ll love it, but okay. I’ll hold off until I see it. And after that, I’ve got something for you, also,” Rhett said.

“You do?” Link hadn’t noticed Rhett get anything, hadn’t seen him bring anything into the house. “When… how did you…?”

“When you were tiling the bathroom and I was getting groceries alone. I’ve been sticking it in the storage room,” Rhett confessed. “Where was  _ that _ ?” Rhett realized. Had Link already seen his gift? He was worried.

“In the storage room. I got it yesterday while I was out shopping, and you were home setting up the tree.” Relief washed over Rhett. Link put his gift in the storage room after Rhett had removed the gift he had for Link. “Open it,” Link urged. He’d wrapped the packages separately, the albums together and then the record player in another package. Rhett picked up the albums first, unwrapping them.

“I’ve always wanted to have vinyl copies of my Merle stuff. And Lionel Richie? I forgot I’d even mentioned him to you,” Rhett said. “Maybe we’ll have to get a record player sometime, listen to them. These are great, Link.” He picked up the second gift, tugging softly at the paper to release the tape.

“I’m sorry the paper’s so messed up. I wanted to wrap them before I got home, but I didn’t want to spend money on scissors. I had to tear it,” Link said, apologizing for how jagged the wrapping looked, how underwhelming it was.

“It’s perfect,” Rhett said. He hadn’t even bothered to wrap Link’s gift at all. As he peeled back the paper enough to reveal a record player, his face lit up. “Oh, you thought of everything,” he said softly. He didn’t wait, taking the player out of the box and plugging it in, placing the Lionel Richie album on first, and lifting the needle to place it on one particular song. “Dance with me,” Rhett said, tugging Link into his arms.

By the light of the Christmas trees and the setting sun outside, the pair danced. In Link’s ear, Rhett softly sang lyrics to a song Link didn’t know. “You mean more to me than words can ever say, just to hold your hand and know our love will stay,” Rhett’s voice was deep, his accent shining through as he sang along. If Link was honest, he would have been just as happy to only hear Rhett serenading him, do away with Lionel altogether, though they made a sensational duet. “Feels so right, you’re in my arms, my love tonight. Oh you, you mean more to me than any love I’ve ever known,” Rhett sang. Link knew, could tell by the tone of his voice and the way Rhett squeezed him on certain lines, that he meant every word of it. He hadn’t picked the song by accident, selecting one near the end of the album because Link needed to hear it. “And I want to give you all my love, just you alone, oh.” Rhett was focused on singing to a point that he stumbled on Link’s feet, but Link didn’t mind, just giggling and letting Rhett take the lead. But Rhett slowed, placing his hands on Link’s cheeks and looking him intently in the eyes. “You’re all my dreams come true, there’s so much joy in your eyes. And all the love you give, you’ve finally made me realize, you’re all I need,” Rhett sang. He dipped his head low and kissed Link softly, neither of them pulling apart as the song continued, then ended. As it faded into the next, Rhett looked at Link. “I still have to show you your gift,” Rhett said.

“Okay,” Link agreed. He followed Rhett up the stairs, watching as he unlocked the door to the office with a key Link didn’t know existed.

“Open it,” Rhett said. He hadn’t wrapped it, but this was just as satisfying, watching Link turn the knob and seeing his gasp as his eyes landed on the typewriter sitting on his desk. He walked over to it, mouth agape as he ran his fingers over the keys. Beside it, a stack of crisp, white paper waited to be filled with his thoughts and words.

“Oh my gosh,” Link said. “It’s… it’s beautiful. Rhett…”

“So you like it? I wanted to get you a computer, but this seemed a little bit more, uh… user-friendly on the set-up.”

“It’s perfect,” Link said. “It’s really great, Rhett.” It was more than Link could have ever imagined, more than he could have dreamed of, and his heart was fluttering with anticipation over the possibilities of what he’d write.

“Do you want me to leave you to write?” Rhett asked. Link just shook his head, still hearing the music trailing up the stairs from downstairs, the songs they’d left playing to come up to the office.

“I want us to go back downstairs and dance. I’ll start it tomorrow, but today it’s still Christmas. Seems wrong to work on Christmas when I could be dancing with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading this chapter, and to clemwasjustagirl for lending inspiration to it. See you Saturday.


	31. Missing Link

Link’s temptation to throw the typewriter off of the desk and scream into a pillow was stronger than he was willing to think about at the moment. Obviously, he wouldn’t actually throw it. The typewriter was his most prized possession in the world aside from the ring on his finger, and he wasn’t about to destroy it no matter how hard it was to make the words sound right. But every time he tried to put his hands on the keys, to tell his story, he realized he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He worried it all sounded too similar to the books he’d read and enjoyed, as if he’d somehow absorbed their life force and was penning someone else’s story to the page. He didn’t mind telling a story that wasn’t his own personal memoir since he didn’t have much memory to go on, but he found himself worried that nothing he wrote was ever quite original enough.

He ripped the page he’d been working on from the typewriter and wadded it up, throwing it onto the floor at his feet. It joined several other crumpled pages that he’d clean up later, deal with when he felt better. For now, though, he stalked downstairs in search of a cup of coffee. He’d spent far too long staring at the page, thrown too many papers away half-full of words that weren’t what he wanted to say.

His heavy footsteps were plenty to indicate to Rhett that it hadn’t been a productive writing session. He’d been trying to take at least half an hour a day to put words onto the pages in his office in quiet, but even on the days when half an hour stretched into hours at a time, it wasn’t working. Not yet.

“Everything okay?” Rhett asked. He didn’t look up from his book, knowing better than to pry too much into what wasn’t working for Link. But he was worrying about Link’s self-confidence, worried that what was going to be his passion, something he wanted to do, was going to end up hurting him. He peered over his book, watching as Link walked over and poured a cup of coffee and slumped onto the couch.

“What if I can’t write?” Link sighed. “What if I don’t have a story to tell? Or enough memories to form a decent plot? Nothing is good enough. Not my story, not stories I make up. I’m failing.” He shook his head. “I just wish I knew what I was trying to write, or that I had something more interesting to say. So what happens if I tell the story of my life? It would be so  _ short _ . ‘I woke up on a beach, I met an amazing man, and then he bought me a typewriter’? It’s sweet, but no one wants to read that. It’s not a story.” Link closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, Link,” Rhett said. He stood up and walked over to Link, sitting beside him and taking his hand. “Your story is more interesting than that. You could write about your nightmares when you first came, how you ran off and what you did with those nights, what you thought about when you couldn’t remember things. You could share the things you learned about yourself, things you never knew when you washed up on that beach. Link, you’ve learned a lot. And I’ve learned about myself, too, because of it. That’s not as relevant to your story maybe, but it’s important for you to know. And hey, we went to Nashville, you tried fishing, you had a lot of things happen. A lot of things you can tell people. Maybe it’ll change them, too. And if you don’t think it’s enough to write about, then tell a different story until your story is enough for you.”

Link nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess I can do that.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “Not today, though. I’m done today.”

“Okay. That’s okay,” Rhett patted Link’s knee and stood to retrieve his guitar. It was the one thing that seemed to put them both in a good mood on days where writing hadn’t gone easily for Link. He’d finally worked out the song they heard in Nashville, the one they’d danced to. It had taken Link touching up all of the trim on Miguel’s with fresh paint to earn enough money for them to special-order the record from a music store, one that wasn’t sold in their store. But after hearing it again and again on vinyl, Rhett had mastered it. Now he sat and plucked out the tune from memory, well-practiced after many efforts.

Link closed his eyes and sang along, feeling the weight of frustration from writing lifting from his shoulders. They made a great duet, Link imagined, their voices rivaling the ones from the band itself. Perhaps they weren’t quite as refined, but Rhett’s voice did a lot for them in Link’s mind. The guitar playing turned to listening to records and dancing in the living room. Link savored the quiet moments that helped him feel better. He was lucky. As he stood there, swaying in Rhett’s arms, he had the entire world. He had work that he could do with no identity, he had a typewriter that he could use no matter how much it frustrated him, and he had Rhett.

He also loved their quiet dinners at home. Rhett had pulled out a couple of stray crabs from the bay that day. During the off-season, there were never very many, but now he had taken to putting the traps out, catching one or two when he could, and pulling them out of the water for dinner. They only had them once or twice a week, but it was something. Two crabs weren’t enough to sell, but they were enough to eat, and Link appreciated the effort.

They were both still stingy with money, careful to work winter jobs where they could, with Rhett still selling fish and Link painting restaurants. But it all afforded them the chance to be less careful, to buy the albums they wanted to buy sometimes, or go out a little more often than they used to. Rhett was accepting of it, happy that Link was opening new doors, and Link was just happy to get Rhett out of the house.

“We could go to the Pelican tonight,” Rhett suggested, mouth half-full of rice. “Get some beers, play some darts maybe. If you don’t try to kill me with one this time.” He chuckled, remembering the last time they’d gone.

“It was an accident!” Link hollered, then smirked. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

The pub was thankfully only a few blocks away. They usually kept their drinking limited to a beer or two each, but it was nice knowing the pub was close enough if they indulged and needed to walk home instead. Rhett drove them over and they climbed the wooden steps to the top. Link felt one give a little under his foot and gave himself a mental note to talk to the owner about repairing the step in exchange for a few free drinks or something.

The pub was nestled in the upper floor above JT’s, the sunset grill they sold crabs at regularly. It was in the perfect spot so in the summertime, even when you were ready to start winding down at the pub, you could still catch a glorious sunset, and tourists loved being able to grab a bite downstairs, then make their way upstairs to the pub for a drink or two after. It was the perfect location.

Rhett’s hand found Link’s easily. Everyone who frequented the pub in the winter, generally locals and condo owners there for the season, knew they were together. They hadn’t tried to hide it, and it was easy enough to figure out in the casual way Link would drape his arm over the back of Rhett’s chair or lean on him after a couple of beers, the warmth rising to his cheeks. Those close enough to spot their matching rings were clued in even more, assuming them for the married couple they liked to imagine they were.

“Hey, Rob, a couple of beers, please,” Rhett said. He leaned on the bar, then turned his head to Link and smiled wide. “What’s it going to be, babe? Darts? Pool?” It didn’t really matter to him what they did, as long as they were doing something together. He liked to watch Link play pool, but he also liked that he could actually win at darts, faring far better than Link at the sport.

Rhett’s eyes scanned the television screen, the last images of whatever had been on dying out as Rob passed the beers over the counter and grabbed Rhett’s attention. Link smiled. “How about pool so you don’t lose an eye?”

“Hey, that guy looks like you, Link,” Rob said. Link turned his attention to the screen, going silent as he read the headline of the special news program starting. On the screen was Link’s face in a picture frame, held by a slender blonde woman. A baby was nestled in the other arm, impossibly small and fragile-looking.

 

_ Surfer’s Baby Born After He Goes Missing in the Gulf _ . Rhett couldn’t believe what he was reading.

 

_ No _ , the word screamed in Rhett’s brain. He hadn’t fully come to terms with what he was seeing on the screen, hadn’t fully sorted it out in his mind. Link’s voice sounded small as he stammered out a question, one that it took Rhett too long to process.

“Can you turn that up?” Rob did, clicking the volume up another few notches.

The woman on the screen was no longer holding the picture. Instead, she was blotting the corner of her eyes with a tissue, her mascara completely unaffected by her tears. “It was horrible losing him,” she sniffled, “but having her, it makes me feel like I’ve got this gift now, this reminder of who he was.” It was a solid sound bite to get people to stay tuned into the channel, to keep watching as they told the story of the surfer lost at sea and the child born to his fiancee. 

The screen cut to a news reporter standing on a beach in Florida, well within driving, or in Link’s case, floating distance of the island he’d washed up on. The reporter told the story of Charles Neal, the only son of a wealthy North Carolina family. He’d used his inheritance to pursue semi-professional surfing instead of taking over the family business quite yet. Link’s head spun. The face on the screen was clearly his, and the short video clips being shown of him surfing showed a board that matched the one still stashed in the storage room under Rhett’s house, untouched since not long after he’d washed up on the island.

But the person behind the face on the screen, the person they were talking about, this Charles Neal, it was all a mystery to Link. It wasn’t who he was. He was the house-painting aspiring writer who was in love with Rhett. This was some other person entirely, someone he wasn’t. It was someone who clearly had a fiancee and a newborn child.

“Oh my gosh,” Rhett said. It took everything in him not to drop his beer, to let the glass shatter to the floor. But his voice, it snapped Link out of the daze he was in, the confused expression on his face turning to horror. He was standing here in a pub in Alabama, and his child, his whole life he’d lived to that point, was sitting in North Carolina.

Link looked at the screen, listening as Charles’ best friend recalled the surfing accident that Link imagined had left him floating toward the island.

“He was there, you know? Right next to me. We were surfing together just around sunrise when it was still sort of dark out, catching some nice swells. It was a huge one, though, and then he was gone. I don’t know how it took him out. He was always more talented than I was, better at this stuff, like he had instincts about the waves. But… but it’s just how these things happen.” He took a deep breath and continued, eyes trained on the reporter, then flicking to the camera. “There was blood in the water there, and I had to get out of it. I was scared some sharks might show up or something smelling it. But when the Coast Guard couldn’t find him…” Tim, the man who called himself Charles’ best friend,  _ Link’s  _ supposed best friend, covered his face. He spoke into his hands. “He was my best friend.”

It wasn’t until it flashed back to the child again, the newborn baby girl who had been recently born prematurely, that they said Link -- or Charles, rather -- had been presumed dead after the Coast Guard failed to find his body. Link knew exactly why they’d never found it. He wasn’t dead. He was right here on a tiny island.

It was all too much for Link to handle. He turned to Rhett and found Rhett’s eyes staring back at him, intently watching.

“I’m sorry,” Link muttered. And then he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to the amazing thatsrhinkbaby, mythical-trash, and mikeuppuffedhe for beta reading this chapter, and for clemwasjustagirl's never-ending support.


	32. Last Night

Rhett didn’t even know where to begin looking for Link. He’d run for the first time since the hurricane, and while Rhett understood, his heart ached. He found himself driving toward the fort at the end of the island where Link had sought refuge, and he got out of the truck and searched the nooks and crannies for any sign of him to no avail. He drove to the picnic table Link had been caught sleeping on the night the police had brought him to Rhett’s house, but he wasn’t there. Rhett drove to the beach, searching the shore for any sign of Link, then drove across the bridge and back with no sign of him either.

Rhett didn’t know where else to look, so he drove home and prayed Link would come back to him, back home, at least to talk. When he got there, he found the door unlocked.

“Link?” Rhett called up the stairs. “Link!” He shouted. The house was completely dark. He flicked lights on to find the couch empty, then climbed the stairs. At the top, he heard shaking sobs.  _ Thank God _ , Rhett thought. Link was hurting, but he was still home. He walked to the bed and sat down beside him, placing his hand on Link’s back and rubbing it gently. “Link, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Link didn’t move for a long time, sobbing into his pillow. When he ran out of tears, when his crying quieted, he sat up and looked at Rhett in the still-dark room.

“I wish I didn’t know.”

“What?” Rhett asked. Link had been choking out the words, his voice strained from tears, and he wasn’t sure he’d heard him properly.

“I wish I didn’t know. I wish I had never gone to the pub and seen that, I wish I’d never found out who I was,” Link sobbed, pressing his head to Rhett’s chest. Rhett wrapped his arms around him and stroked his hair.

“Why?”

“Because now that I know… now I have to go back.”

The words hit Rhett like a ton of bricks, an ice pick to the heart and pain radiating through him. He had anticipated Link might want to find out where he’d come from and who he was, which was why he’d searched the island for him, thinking perhaps Link was retracing his steps in an effort to go back somehow, to find out where to go and how to get back to North Carolina. But Rhett hadn’t figured it would be a permanent thing, something that sounded so final in Link’s words.

“Back? For… for good?” Rhett asked, but he didn’t think he wanted to know the answer.

“I’ve got a baby, Rhett. I have this… this child that doesn’t know me, that’s growing up and already living without me. And if I don’t go back, she’ll never  _ get  _ to know me, and I won’t get to know her,” Link said. It effectively dodged the question, which made Rhett’s stomach sink even more until he clarified. “I can’t ask you to come with me. You’ve got a life here. The house, the crabbing, a whole world here and… and I can’t make you leave that.”

“Link, I’d leave it. I’d leave all of that in a heartbeat and you know it. You don’t have to do this alone,” Rhett pleaded. Tears stung at his eyes, threatening to flood down his cheeks. Link was talking and Rhett was losing him.

“Okay,” Link said finally. “But I want you to think about it. Stay here, stay with the house, take care of it. Let me go back and figure things out, meet my baby… let me do that first so I can make sure that everything’s okay.” He let Rhett hold him tightly, but his arms stayed glued to his sides. “I think it’s going to be hard enough for everyone to process the fact that I’m still alive, and embrace me being in their lives again, even if they do miss me. I can’t imagine coming to them and telling them that I need them to accept me  _ and  _ my husband… not my husband, my… my…” Link stammered. He had a fiancee in his old life, wasn’t legally married to Rhett, so no matter how much they’d dreamed it, pretended it to be true, it felt wrong to say it now.

“I get it,” Rhett sighed. He didn’t want to let Link go, didn’t want him to leave, but it made sense. “Go. And then call me when you get there, call me if you want me to come be with you. We can go get cell phones in the morning, get us a way to talk to each other if you want to.”

“If? Rhett, no… when, okay? When. Of course I want to talk to you, and of course I want you to be with me. I just don’t want to show up and spring all of this on them. I… I’ve had no time to process this, but… but they said goodbye to me, Rhett. They… they think I’m gone. Them processing that, it’s going to be hard, too. So when. When you join me, hold onto that. But right now I have to do this alone.”

They were both crying now, and Link held Rhett in reassurance, tugged him closer. They’d somehow had unlimited time and now they had no time. And while Link was sure he’d call Rhett, sure he’d bring him back into his life and find a way back to him, Rhett wasn’t so sure. Link had fallen in love with his fiancee once or he wouldn’t have been marrying her. Rhett wondered how long it would take for it to happen again.

* * *

 

Their last day was filled with sorrow. While Link recounted all of the things that he loved about Rhett, all of the reasons he’d be coming back, for Rhett it felt like a goodbye. Link would tell stories to Rhett about their time together, and each one felt like the knife twisting deeper. Rhett hadn’t forgotten.

“I remember the first time you asked me to eat lunch here,” Link said, eating a spoonful of rice. “And how bad your coffee tasted when I first got here. You’ve gotten a lot better at that.”

Rhett smiled and nodded and tried hard to keep his tears in. He could cry later, could cry when Link was gone, but now wasn’t the time. Link held his hand the same way he always did as Rhett drove them to the store. They’d gone dozens of times to get groceries, taken the same road to get paint for Link to touch up the house, but today they weren’t after any of it. They only needed cell phones. Rhett approached the counter in the electronics department, buying the first phone he’d owned in five years. He had to know that Link could call him if he needed to, or send a quick text message. Anything that would allow them to communicate, Rhett would do. He bought the phones and the plans, putting his phone number into Link’s phone and Link’s into his own. It was the only number he’d need, and while he knew that Link would go back to his life and meet everyone he’d known before all over again, he hoped Link would only need his, too. It was against all odds, but it was something.

The drive back home felt final, felt like the end of everything. He’d take Link to the bus station off of the island the next day, but it was the last time he’d drive toward the island with Link in the car. Link squeezed his hand tightly, as if sensing the ache that was present in Rhett’s chest. All Rhett wanted to do was drive slower, make this last as long as he could.

“Can we go to the bird sanctuary on the way home?” Link asked. Rhett wanted to do that, of course he did. He’d have done anything Link asked him to. But all it did was confirm one thing for him… if Link wanted to revisit those places, then this was a goodbye. It was too cold for them to stay long but Link didn’t seem to care, tugging Rhett along their favorite paths and kissing him, pulling him close.

“Rhett, do you remember the things we said in Nashville?”

“You told me you’d never forget this,” Rhett answered quickly.

Link nodded. “I did say that. And I meant it. I’m never going to forget this. But that wasn’t what I was asking. Do you remember the rest of it?”

Rhett thought about it. “I promised I’d never take you for granted.”

“And you haven’t, Rhett. You’ve never taken me for granted. But I also promised that I’d remind you how much you matter to me. I have no intention of stopping that, Rhett. Even while I’m gone, I’m holding onto that promise.”

Rhett nodded, a tear falling down his face as he looked at the ground, the sunlight casting shadows through the trees. “I promised I’d give you everything I have,” Link continued. “Do you remember something else you promised me?”

“I promised you Nashville wouldn’t be our last vacation,” Rhett said.

“I’m holding you to that. Do you understand that? You’re going to take me on another vacation someday,” Link said. He cupped Rhett’s face and swiped tears away with his thumbs. Rhett still wouldn’t look at him. “But I was thinking about another promise you made me. The  _ most important  _ promise you made me.”

“I told you I’d love you until the day I die, and to keep loving you after that if it’s possible.” Rhett’s words sounded strangled, like saying them put him in physical pain.

“Don’t forget that, because I’m going to do the same. This isn’t over, Rhett. It’s never,  _ ever  _ going to be over.”

Rhett wanted desperately to believe Link. He held those words tightly as he drove Link home, as they walked up the steps to their home, the paint still the same buttery yellow Link had picked and so carefully applied to the walls.

“Can you give me a few minutes?” Link asked. He climbed the stairs to his office and closed the door behind him. Rhett didn’t disturb him, no matter how much he wished he could be having that time with Link alone. Writing his story couldn’t possibly be important now, couldn’t be something he needed to do when they had so little time left, but if Link needed that time, Rhett was willing to give it to him. When Link came out of his room, he found Rhett in the bedroom.

“What clothes do you want?” Rhett asked over his shoulder. “I mean, perhaps they’ve saved some of yours, but in case they haven’t, you’ll need something to wear.”

“Rhett, I can just… I can wear this, okay? You don’t have to send me with anything,” Link insisted. But Rhett resisted, packing the clothes Link wore the most. Before zipping the bag closed, he pulled one more item from the closet, the one that he loved and wore the most. Link borrowed it sometimes, mostly only when he was freezing cold, but he thought Link needed it more than he did.

“Here,” Rhett took the cactus printed sweater off of the hanger, carefully folding it and placing it in the bag. “So you don’t forget.”

Rhett played guitar for Link well into the night, much later than they usually went to bed, at Link’s request. They danced to their favorite songs from the records Link had bought, including the Lionel Richie song Rhett played for him on Christmas, the first song they’d played on the record player. As always, Rhett sang the words into Link’s ear, but now they were tinged with sadness and heartbreak.

As they made love that night, Rhett couldn’t stop crying, and despite Link’s concern that they should stop if Rhett wasn’t okay with it, Rhett pleaded with him to keep going. They needed this, they deserved this, one last night together. Link’s tears joined his, and eventually tears turned to kisses and hot breath on skin, promises that this wasn’t over repeated again and again until their tears were dried and they were both close to the edge. Rhett hated that he’d spent their last time crying, but he couldn’t help it. The goodbye was too much for him to bear.

When Link fell asleep with his head on Rhett’s chest, Rhett laid awake for the longest time trying to memorize everything about it. The way Link breathed, the way his body fit against Rhett’s perfectly, the way he smelled, the way he looked so at peace in his sleep. But before Rhett could slip into sleep himself, Link woke screaming.

The nightmares were back, and his body was shaking. “It’s… they’re… I can’t…” Link tried to catch his breath, but panic consumed him. His breathing was ragged and shaky, his eyes filled with terror. He hadn’t had a nightmare since they’d been together,  _ really  _ together, and now they’d returned. The bloody water made sense now, probably a remnant of the last of his memories, but it took far too long to calm Link down again. He gasped for air still as Rhett smoothed his hand over Link’s back slowly.

“Shhh, it’s just a dream, it’s going to be okay.” But it wasn’t just a dream. Bloody water was rooted in reality, and Rhett wondered how much of the rest of it was. He was sending Link back into the lion’s den, back to memories that haunted him, a place that plagued him, after months of peace. No matter how much Link assured him things would be okay, Rhett had the distinct feeling that they weren’t going to be. But that was just the goodbye, the pain of Link leaving, speaking to him. Eventually, Link calmed and fell asleep again, and while Rhett wanted to keep remembering, keep thinking about everything he’d miss while Link was gone, the things he needed to know to get him through, he was too tired. He joined Link in sleep right after.

The last thing either of them wanted was to get out of bed the next morning. Link didn’t want to leave, Rhett didn’t want to say goodbye. They had no choice, though. Link had to go, and Rhett had to take him, and they had to say it at some point. Link took his time getting dressed, showering so Rhett wouldn’t hear him sobbing until he was physically ill. He composed himself and tugged on a clean shirt, getting dressed and walking out to where Rhett sat in the living room.

He had a book open in his hand, but he had been reading the same page again and again for the last hour. When he saw Link, he stood up. It was time, and he wasn’t ready.

“I want you to take this with you,” Rhett walked to the bookshelf and plucked three books from the shelf. First, the copies of Kafka on the Shore and Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, the ones that he’d given Link to borrow from the beginning. And then he pulled down the worn brown book that he’d told Link wasn’t interesting enough to read. He handed it to him. “Don’t open this until you’re gone, okay? Just… just promise me you’ll save it until you’re on the bus at least.”

Link agreed, and Rhett pulled him into a hug. They were clinging to each other again, too tightly, and Rhett could feel the books pressing into his spine. Letting go seemed impossible, but if they stalled any longer, Link would miss his bus. At this point, Rhett couldn’t imagine that being a bad idea. He’d have given almost anything for one more day, one more week, whatever it took for the next bus to Raleigh to come.

They were both quiet on the drive to the bus station. No amount of words could help them now, no words profound enough to get them through the next few steps. They had to say goodbye, and Link had to return to a world he didn’t remember, a life he didn’t remember, to meet the child whose life he felt drawn to be a part of.

Tears overtook them as they said their goodbyes. They held each other until the last possible second, until it was clear that Link would miss his bus if he waited another second. One long kiss, one more goodbye, and Link’s final promise that he’d love Rhett forever was all Rhett had to hold onto as Link climbed the stairs onto the bus and took his seat. Rhett waved, but he wasn’t sure that Link saw until Link gave a small wave back, his head low to keep Rhett from seeing him cry. It took everything in the world for him not to jump off of the bus and forget all of it, to pretend he’d never seen who he really was and go back to his life on the island forever.

But the bus started moving and he’d missed his chance to change his mind, at least for now. In his hands was the brown book. He opened it to the first page and saw Rhett’s messy scrawl. By a third of the way into the book, he saw Rhett’s confusion on the page about how Link had gotten so intimate with him on the couch, and then ran the second he’d heard Rhett call him Link. It recounted details of the hurricane, and the little things Rhett loved about Link. Before that, though, were stories of Rhett’s life before.

Entries were few and far between for the first third of the book, which Link found himself flipping back to out of curiosity. Many pages were dated and simply had “this island, alone, makes me wonder if I’m losing my mind. I’ve been here by myself so long that I wonder sometimes if the house is talking to me.” Rhett had been descending into loneliness and despair for years, the months before he met Link the very worst. “I’m alone again today. I’m beginning to think I like it that way. Even the shortest conversations at Skinner’s leave me drained.” He’d been convincing himself it was better to be alone, and then he’d met Link. Everything changed then. Where in previous months, a day might be covered by a single sentence, days after Link arrived could span pages. He wondered when Rhett had even had the time to write it all down, but it left him seeing Rhett, and himself, from a new perspective. Tucked inside, a small piece of tape holding it in place, was the lone picture of Rhett standing in front of the house. It was the only picture he had of Rhett, and it occurred to him then that Rhett didn’t have a single one of him.

He’d read the journal twice over on the ride to Raleigh, first reading it and then the second time going over the passages that hit him the hardest, the ones that mattered most. But soon, the bus was pulling into Raleigh. It didn’t take him long to find his way to the police station and explain who he was. Interviews lasted longer than he cared to imagine, his eyes too tired to manage.

“Where can we take you?” the officer who had been with him asked. “Do you have someplace to stay?”

“Not yet. First, I’d like to see my baby.”

Link was thankful the officers were willing to drive him to what once had been his home. It was large and imposing, bigger than he’d anticipated, a mansion in its own right. The fact that it was his overwhelmed him. The television story had said he’d inherited a lot, and the cops alluded to it in the interviews as they asked him what he remembered and he confirmed for them that he remembered absolutely nothing, but he hadn’t anticipated the money they’d discussed was quite this much. He climbed the steps to the home that was once his, but nothing felt familiar in the slightest. As he rang the bell, his heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know what to expect.

The door swung open, revealing the same blonde, slender woman he’d seen on television, one that he now knew was named Samantha thanks to the interview. As her eyes scanned Link’s face, registered what she was seeing, her face turned pale. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, and it was then Link remembered that as far as she knew, that was exactly what she was seeing. Her shock overtook any happiness Link thought she might have shown upon finding out her fiance was alive. He couldn’t blame her. He was more shocked than happy, too.

“Hi,” Link managed.

“Charles,” she breathed. “You’re… oh my god.”


	33. Adaptations

“So you don’t remember  _ anything _ ?” She asked. “You don’t remember me, or Tim, or the accident? You don’t remember what happened at all?”

“No, I don’t remember anything,” Link confirmed. She nodded, and Link figured she was trying to wrap her head around it. She took a quick look at Tim, then back at Link. If Link was being honest, it was hard for him to understand and he’d lived through it. Explaining how it was to wake up and have nothing exist in his mind, no people or places, it felt impossible. “I only remember the things that happened after I woke up on the beach.”

“Oh,” she said. “Did you try to find out who you were? Look for information or anything?”

Link shook his head and twisted the ring on his finger. It was a movement that wasn’t lost on her. Her eyes focused on it, like she was trying to bore holes into Link’s skin with her stare.

“Like… like I said, I had trouble remembering anything. The first few days I was just trying to find shelter, and trying to see if I could remember anything. And… and after that I lived somewhere with no television or phone, so searching was a little bit difficult.”

“But you didn’t go to the police or anything, a doctor?” Tim pressed. It felt like an interrogation, like they were trying to find out how badly he even wanted to be here. If he was being honest, outside of his baby girl, he didn’t really care to be there at all. He’d been inside the house, the home that was once his if everyone was telling him the story correctly, for all of thirty minutes and felt painfully uncomfortable. Everything about it felt stiff and awkward. The furniture was hard underneath him, not worn-in like Rhett’s couch.

“I didn’t, no. I… I didn’t really look. I’m sorry,” Link offered. Tim placed his hand on Samantha’s shoulder protectively. “Can… can I hold her?” His eyes had been focused on the baby in Samantha’s arms, the one cradled softly against her.

Samantha winced slightly, reluctant to hand her over, then nodded. It was as if she was afraid Link’s loss of memory would somehow render him incapable of holding a baby. He wasn’t completely useless, though, he’d just forgotten. She stood and placed the baby in his arms and he supported her head carefully, snuggling her close. She couldn’t have weighed over a handful of pounds, light as a feather, and Link marveled at her tiny features.

“Her name is Charlie,” Samantha finally said. “Or, Charlotte. We named her after you, Charles.”

“Thank you,” Link said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. It was meaningful, sure, but Charles wasn’t the person he was anymore, so he felt a sense of disconnect. He wanted, for a moment at least, to tell Samantha not to call him that, but to call him Link instead. But at the same time, he worried it might sound wrong coming from her voice. Maybe he’d remember something if she kept calling him Charles, so he didn’t correct her. “She’s beautiful,” Link offered.

“She is,” Samantha said quietly, settling back onto the couch next to Tim.

“Did I… did I know about her? Before I mean?” It pained Link to think he might have known he was going to be a father and somehow forgotten. It scared him that something else might cause him to forget other things that were important to him, too.

But Samantha shook her head. “No, I, uh, I found out right before you went missing. I was planning a big announcement for you, but I hadn’t told you yet.”

“Oh,” Link said again, nodding. The entire conversation had gone like this, an exchange of tiny kernels of information, one asking a question and the other answering in brief. Now, though, Link turned his focus entirely to Charlie. She had round, rosy cheeks and her eyes were closed. He could feel her warmth radiating through her blanket and watched as a smile, or more likely gas, played at her tiny little mouth. Link never wanted to let go of her, to set her down, but within minutes Samantha was walking over to him.

“She had me awake at five this morning,” she said. “If you don’t mind, can we continue the conversation tomorrow morning?” Samantha held her arms out for Charlie, cutting Link’s time short with her. “I apologize, but with Charlie, and… and while you’ve been gone, we’ve moved into the master bedroom.” Link could tell the implication there, the way that Tim stood close to Samantha, hand on the small of her back protectively.

“Oh, I… I don’t mind the guest room, really.” Link had been dead, or at least as far as they knew. He didn’t expect to step in and take over the master bedroom, and he certainly didn’t expect or desire to step back into his role as Samantha’s fiance, not if she had someone there for her. And Tim seemed to be there for her. Tim took Charlie in his arms, cradling her carefully and bidding Link goodnight.

“I’ll show you there,” Samantha offered. As she walked him through the hallway, she spoke softly. “I understand all of this must be difficult. I… I’m not sure what you expected or how much you know of your story. But… we thought you were dead, Charles. When I announced I was having your baby, Tim was helpful. I was… I was grieving and he stepped in. I’m really sorry,” she said. “I thought you were dead.” She repeated herself again, as if she was making an excuse.

“It’s okay,” Link said as they approached the door to the room he’d be staying in and she turned the knob. “I understand. I don’t even remember who I am, so I definitely didn’t expect you to wait or anything.” Her eyes glanced at the ring he was turning again, then back up at him.

“You’ve met someone, too, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have,” Link said. “Please don’t feel badly. I’m glad you had someone who could be here for you. Don’t feel like that needs to change just because I’d like to be in Charlie’s life.”

“So… so you’re back for good, then?” Samantha asked. Link couldn’t read the expression on her face.

“She’s my daughter. I’d like to be here for her.”

It wasn’t until the door closed behind him, with Charlie, Samantha, and Tim all in their room for the night, that Link pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was late and Rhett was probably asleep. The last thing he wanted to do was wake him, to disturb him, but the thought of going to sleep without hearing his voice made Link’s heart ache. Despite his better judgement, Link tapped the call button on the contact that would connect him to Rhett.

“Link?” Rhett answered quickly, only a ring or two in as if he’d been holding the phone in his hand. “Or… uh… Charles, is it?” Rhett wasn’t sure how much or how little had changed in the hours since Link had been gone, if he’d changed his name or if he was back to his old life completely.

“It’s still Link,” he replied. “I miss you.” He did. He missed Rhett with everything in his entire being. Though he’d only been gone since morning, it felt like it had been forever since they’d seen each other. Link wanted to go home  _ now _ , after hearing Rhett’s voice, but that wasn’t an option. He’d come for a reason: to be with Charlie. He intended to make good on that.

“Are you… are… what’s everything like?”

“It’s uncomfortable. Everything feels uncomfortable. The house, the furniture, I don’t remember any of it. And she’s looking at me like she doesn’t believe me when I say I don’t remember,” Link sighed.

“Does she, uh… are you two still…?” Rhett kept trying sentences and failing them, kept wanting to ask things clearly and finding himself incapable of doing so. He was terrified that going home would mean Link would fall back into her arms, would remember her suddenly and decide that he wanted to be with her.

“Rhett, no. I’m with you, remember? And if it makes you feel better, I guess after my accident, my old… old best friend, who I have no memory of, comforted her and they’re together now. Don’t worry, Rhett. Even if they weren’t, I’m still with you. But I thought you’d want to know.”

It did make Rhett feel better, knowing.

“I miss you. I miss home and I miss our couch and our kitchen and our bed,” Link said. His eyes welled with tears. Link had expected it would take longer to sink in, the homesickness. He figured that curiosity would carry him through for a few days and keep him occupied. Instead, he was alone, sleepless and wishing Rhett were with him. He stretched out on the bed and wished he was talking to Rhett by his side, not through a phone.

“How is she?” Rhett asked.

“I can’t read her. It’s… it’s like there’s this wall there, like she’s testing me on what I remember and why I didn’t come back sooner.” Link couldn’t pin Samantha down or figure her out, not yet at least. But then they’d only known each other for an hour or two. Or rather, they’d known each other for much longer before Link lost his memory, but now? She was a stranger.

“I meant… I meant the baby,” Rhett clarified.

“Charlie? She’s so sweet, Rhett. So… so tiny. She slept the whole time, but she’s like an angel. I could hold her for hours.” Link’s tone of voice changed completely, from scared and fragile to light and happy. Rhett could hear it through the phone, could see Link’s beaming smile in his mind. He was thankful for that, knowing that Link wanted kids, but he worried about Link and the choices he might have to make to be close to her. He worried for both of them.

“I’m really happy to hear that, Link.” There was a sorrow in his voice, though, a sense of doubt and concern. “I’m glad you’re getting to meet her.” Rhett couldn’t ask what he wanted to, not when Link was so happy to meet his daughter. But Link could tell the question lingering in his mind, could sense what Rhett wanted to ask.

“I don’t know when I’ll get to come home,” Link said. “But I’ll figure it out as soon as I can. Maybe there’s something I can work out here, some way I can see Charlie for a while and then come see you, then come back.”

The thought of living between states, between places, torn between his life with Rhett and his life with his daughter, it sounded frustrating. He longed for a way he could bring the two worlds together, but it seemed impossible. Link could hear Rhett stifle a yawn through the phone.

“I’ll let you sleep now,” Link said. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Link. I love you.”

“Love you,” Link said. When he heard the dial tone, he hung up the phone. Once he did, there was no stopping the tears.

* * *

 

Link hadn’t anticipated to wake up and go downstairs to find himself face-to-face with lawyers. He hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet, but there they were, Samantha and Tim, two attorneys, and now Link. As the lawyers introduced themselves, there was an air of awkwardness, and it hit Link that he should have known the people in front of him. They were  _ his  _ lawyers, or at least one of them was.

“I apologize,” Link said, sitting down in a chair. “My memory isn’t quite back to normal.” That was an understatement. He had no memory at all.

“No problem, Mr. Neal,” his attorney answered.

“Please call me, uh, call me Link. Charles!” He corrected himself quickly. “Call me Charles.”

He had no idea who he was supposed to be here, or how he was supposed to handle any of this. Before his coffee, everything seemed confusing. He wasn’t sure that even Rhett’s jet fuel, the overly strong coffee he used to make, would have gotten him to understand the legalese they were discussing. But Link gathered the most important details and tried to understand.

“During your engagement, you’d written her into the will. Without living family, you naturally wanted to be sure if anything happened, that she’d get it. But unfortunately, or rather fortunately in your case, Mr. Neal, your will was held in probate since there wasn’t a body. Naturally, because of your child, Ms. Williamson has been able to live in the house, a small stipend to pay the utilities and care for your child, but now that you are, in fact, alive, it seems the house is yours to do what you will with it, and as soon as we can get everything wrapped up, confirm you’re back, you should be back where you were previously, financially speaking.”

If Link was understanding correctly, the lawyers were telling him that the house, his money, everything was still his. After all, he was alive. The attorneys passed over paperwork to sign and information. He’d been counting pennies and painting restaurants to pay for beers at the local pub and one trip out of town with Rhett, and now the numbers on the page in front of him made his head swim. The number seemed impossibly high, too hard to wrap his brain around, so he didn’t try.

Link hadn’t known what to expect from the life he’d forgotten, but it certainly wasn’t this.

* * *

 

Rhett missed Link desperately. The house was too quiet with him gone, everything lacking the life that it had. Even when Link was up in his office writing, Rhett could usually hear humming or his foot tapping on the floor above Rhett’s chair, the pacing Link would do when he couldn’t figure out what to write.

Rhett had forgotten how to cook meals for one person, and found himself making too much of everything out of habit after cooking for Link. He’d previously made two servings to account for lunch and dinner, which left him now cooking four servings and eating leftovers for days.

In the off-season, he was sleeping more than usual, taking long naps during the day in hopes of forgetting that Link wasn’t there. Each night, he waited for Link’s call, waited to listen to him talk for a few minutes before one of them fell asleep on the line.

Link offered to send money back to Rhett, now that he knew he had it. He offered more money than Rhett could comfortable accept, saying he wanted to pay back Rhett’s generosity. Of course Rhett refused-- he hadn’t done it for Link to pay him back-- but his heart hurt at the thought that Link thought there was anything to repay at all.

“It’s our home, Link. Remember everything you did? The backsplash, the paint? And now you’re saying you want to pay for living here?” The hurt in his voice hit Link hard. He’d intended it as a way to help Rhett, not to hurt him.

“Rhett, I--”

“You’re acting like you were my roommate who was a few months late on rent, Link. Not… not my partner in life, my… gosh, my husband, for all practical purposes!”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Rhett. I meant that… that things wouldn’t have to be so tight if I could send something back to you. Or… or I could maybe fly home, come and see you, then fly back, just as soon as I have a little more time with Charlie.”

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, Link. But... but you’re not supposed to pay me back. You were never supposed to. I… you stayed here because you belonged here, because it was  _ our  _ home. Because it still is. You don’t owe me anything,” Rhett reminded him.

“Okay. You’re… you’re right,” Link said quietly. “I’m sorry.” Being apart for over a week was taking its toll. Rhett missed Link terribly, and Link missed him in return. All Link wanted was to be where Rhett was, to be in the same place. When Link finally fell asleep on the phone, his soft snoring through the receiver, Rhett listened for a few minutes, then hung up. He paced the house, walking downstairs and back up. His hand lingered on the doorknob to Link’s office, the space Link had taken for himself. With a deep breath, Rhett opened it and saw a single paper, almost fully typed, hanging from the typewriter. He walked over and picked it up.

On the page were promises, every one they’d made to each other in Nashville. Promises that Link wouldn’t hold Rhett’s bean consumption against him, promises that Rhett would love Link forever, all of the things Link made Rhett remember in the bird sanctuary, typed on a page. But at the bottom there was something new, something different that wasn’t part of their exchanged vows.

_ You found me. You found me when I was just a Missing Link and I will never, ever forget that. Hold onto my love, and everything we promised each other, because I’m holding onto it, too. I love you. -Your Link. _

Rhett sank to the floor, leaning his head against Link’s desk. He cried until he fell asleep, his head and body resting on the crumpled papers on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Wednesday. Friendly notice: there will be NO chapter next Saturday, as I'll be on vacation. See you soon!


	34. Back to Me

“Where’s the peanut butter?” Link opened cabinet after cabinet in the kitchen. After a few days of steak for dinner, he was ready for something a little simpler.

“You hate peanut butter,” Tim remarked.

“I don’t hate peanut butter.” Link would have given just about anything for a peanut butter sandwich, or heck, just a spoonful of the creamy substance. “Seriously, we don’t have  _ any _ ?”

“No.”

“Fine,” Link said. He left the room, stomping to grab keys out of the foyer, then stalked back. “Can someone tell me how to get to the damn grocery store?” He was sick of having to ask for help with everything. At home, he knew how to get to the grocery store, but here? He had no clue. Groceries seemed to magically appear in the fridge because Samantha had someone hired on to take care of that sort of thing, an assistant who went shopping for them, but Link was over it. He just wanted to find the nearest Walmart and pick up some peanut butter, and he hated that it seemed like so much to ask. Reluctantly, Tim gave him directions.

“Why not just put it on the list?” he suggested.

“Because I want it now. And to be honest, I just need to get out of the house for like… twenty minutes,” Link tugged his jacket on, something he’d found in a closet, one of the few items of his that hadn’t been discarded or donated already. “Come on, Charlie, you can come with daddy.” Link lifted her out of the swing she’d been sitting in, carrying her to dress her in the appropriate outerwear and put some shoes on her tiny feet. “When you grow up, you’re going to be capable of buying your own groceries, okay, baby girl? Not expecting other people to do it for you. Good gracious, this is ridiculous,” Link muttered under his breath, the snark apparent even though no one could really hear but Charlie. He hated the thought that he’d grown up very much like this, with things being done for him, handed to him, not having to put in the effort at all.

Tim had protested Link’s use of the word “daddy” with Charlie initially, arguing that he’d been there since she was born. But when Link snapped back, saying that he’d come as soon as he could, that because she was his daughter and he was taking care of her more often than not, he’d refer to himself as her daddy if he wanted. He didn’t mind Tim having some sort of name, papa or something, that indicated he was a significant figure in her life, too. But as far as Link was concerned, if Charlie was his daughter and if she was in his care most of the time, then she could get used to calling him dad even if he wasn’t marrying her mother. 

When Link said he’d come back for Charlie, he had, but he hadn’t intended that he’d somehow manage most of the care-taking responsibilities. Samantha had insisted on a nanny, someone who could keep an eye on her while she went to various luncheons and functions in the community, working with local charities in more of a figurehead and financial contribution role than anything. She wasn’t exactly slaving away in soup kitchens, instead hosting fundraising brunches to benefit the local literacy program, but she kept herself busy and taking a crying infant to that sort of thing didn’t work out. Link had insisted, though, that as long as someone was available to watch her, there was no need for a nanny. She had three parental figures in her life, and hiring someone to parent his child seemed ridiculous in his mind. So most of the time in the first month of him being there, he and Charlie were an unbreakable duo.

Link carefully packed the sling so he could wear her in the store, then buckled her into her car seat. “Let’s go get some peanut butter.”

* * *

There was little Link hated more in the world than dressing up for dinner. At home, a graphic tee and jeans were perfect dinner attire, great for sitting on the balcony and eating tacos or scooping rice into his mouth at the table. But here, he was expected to dress for dinner. Samantha had been inviting a stream of people over to the house, people Link had known before he’d lost his memory. It was a re-introduction of sorts, a chance for Link to get to know the people he’d once worked with or interacted with all over again in the safe comfort of home. They were almost always business associates Link’s parents had known or affluent and influential members of the local community. Once or twice they’d been old surfing buddies. Link tried to remember as many of the names as he could, but he’d already forgotten a good half of them not long after they’d walked out the door.

“Charles, it’s been awhile!” Tonight’s guest greeted Link and tugged him into a half-hug, patting his back and clasping hands between them in a handshake. “Of course, I’m sure you don’t remember me.”

“Actually, you look incredibly familiar,” Link acknowledged. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Well, then I’m glad to be one of the only faces you remember. I was all prepared to reintroduce myself.”

Link let out a small, insecure chuckle. “You might still have to. My memory isn’t  _ that  _ good. You look familiar is all. Remind me how we know each other? Maybe that will jog my memory.” Link over his shoulder at another man, standing a few steps behind. Samantha had mentioned tonight’s guest would be bringing his husband along for dinner, and that they’d have dinner first, then discuss business after. She’d failed to be more specific than that, which had Link on edge. His husband looked familiar, too, but Link still couldn’t place his finger on it.

“I was on your legal team, and your father’s before he passed away. I helped you with your prenuptial agreement.”

“Oh,” Link said quietly. “Thank you.”

“I can help you get out of it,” the man said under his breath. Sorting out finances wasn’t Link’s forte at all. Back on the island, they had a simple method for things: before buying anything, they’d ask themselves if the cash that remained in the cookie jar was enough to get them through the off-season. If it wasn’t, they didn’t purchase the item. If it was enough but they were cutting it close, they’d find an odd job to work for it instead. Here, there was almost  _ too much  _ money.

Link had already spoken with one lawyer, one that covered his estate. It confirmed what he’d already assumed: the small stipend Samantha received to pay bills and raise Charlie was already significantly larger than what he and Rhett lived on for any stretch of time at all. It barely made a dent in what he had, so in the end it seemed inconsequential, but the thought of that much money being  _ gone  _ without thought was mind-blowing to Link. He and Rhett were lucky enough to live in paradise, in a nice home that was expensive by most standards. But even then, living like this seemed excessive to Link. The added pressure didn’t help, either, since he’d been such a figure in the community, leading to all kinds of press interest.

On the island, life was simple. He didn’t interact with many people outside of Rhett, but now he was forced to interact constantly. Link was willing to do anything he needed to in order to spend time with Charlie, that making everything worthwhile, but not knowing about this life had in most ways been a blessing. Link hated everything about it except the tiny child that was almost always secured against him in a sling or less than a room away from him.

“It sounds like we need to talk,” Link finally said to the man in front of him. He and Samantha hadn’t spoken much about the prenuptial agreement, but it was clear that she’d clued the lawyer in by how he was talking. Samantha returned to the room at that moment, a tray of drinks in hand.

“It seems like you and Max are getting well-acquainted,” she said.

_ Max?  _ “You… you’re Max?” Link wasn’t entirely sure what expression his face had to have been showing for Max’s smile to suddenly drop and turn into a look of concern.

“Yes. I guess we hadn’t quite gotten through our introductions before starting a conversation, had we. I’m Max Roman. Is everything alright?”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Link said, then turned and walked out of the room. Max? Which meant the man standing behind him, his husband, had to be Levi. Suddenly, what Link knew of Max clouded their entire conversation, his comment that he’d get Link out of the prenuptial agreement seeming less like he was helping and more like he was a complete snake, using whatever maneuvers he could, just like he’d screwed Rhett over. He wasn’t exactly sure how things had worked out the way they had, how he now had the love of his life’s ex-husband sitting in his living room, but all he wanted to do was get as far away as possible. Instead, the moment he was in his room, door closed behind him, he picked up the phone.

When Rhett said hello, Link skipped over pleasantries entirely.

“You’re from North Carolina? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me Max was a lawyer? Did you and I know each other before I got to the island? What don’t I know, Rhett?” Link demanded, questions overlapping questions, barely giving space for one question to end before he shot the next one out and leaving absolutely no room for answers.

“Slow down, Link. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I just met your ex-husband,” Link said. “And his husband, apparently. They’re part of my legal team, helped me write my prenup. So again, did you  _ know  _ that he was my lawyer?”

“Link, I had never seen you before in my life when we met each other. If I would have known, I would have told you from the beginning. But yes, I’m from North Carolina. Or rather, I went to college in North Carolina and started work there before coming here. That’s where Max and I met. But Link, I didn’t know? Okay? I didn’t know.”

“Well he’s sitting in my living room right now, and I don’t know what to do. I want to tell him to get the hell out of my house, but he has no clue why I can’t stand him. All he knows is that we worked on the prenup before my accident. He doesn’t know me, or know why I’d be kicking him out,” Link said. His voice was strained and Rhett could hear the frustration through his gritted teeth on the phone.

“Link, it’s fine. Everything is in the past, okay? You don’t know him the same way I know him, and I’m sure he’s just fine to you. He’s probably incredibly professional, and from what I can recall, he was a good lawyer,” Rhett sighed. “It’s fine.”

“He told me he was going to help me get out of my prenuptial agreement, Rhett. He sounds like a total snake! I want nothing to do with him and if he still works for me, I’m firing him,” Link said.

“Link, honey, please. Don’t get worked up about this. And if you’re locked in some sort of prenup, you might  _ need  _ his help to get out of it, okay? Let him help you. It’s okay. It’s all okay.” Rhett wanted to climb through the phone, to wrap his arms around Link and make it better.

“He  _ hurt  _ you, Rhett. I don’t want him here,” Link started to cry.

For the longest time they were both silent apart from Link’s soft crying over the phone. His mind was reeling from the encounter, and he kicked himself for not knowing how he recognized Max sooner. And Rhett didn’t know how to comfort Link, especially not over the phone.

“Link, just because he hurt me doesn’t mean he can’t help you.”

There was a knock at Link’s door. “You’re being rude to our guests, Charles,” Samantha’s voice strained through the door.

“Just a minute,” Link snapped toward the door, then turned his attention back to the phone. “I have to go. Are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s okay, Link. Do what you need to do. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Link said. He hung up the phone and stood up. It was time to walk back into the lion’s den without letting himself get torn apart by the emotional turmoil that was surely waiting outside. He bore the weight of Rhett’s past, the hurt he’d endured, on his shoulders, whether or not Rhett wanted him to.

* * *

Link was thankful Charlie was napping, that she couldn’t hear the stressed bickering around the dinner table.

“I thought we were going to save business for after dinner,” Tim reminded Samantha, patting her hand.

“We are. I just thought it didn’t hurt to talk about how things would be done here,” she said.

“What’s there to discuss?” Link said. “You’ve moved on. I’ve moved on. You’re staying in the Master suite and I’m happy in the guest room. All of the bills are being paid from my accounts, so there’s nothing really to divide at all. We never got married or anything,” Link explained.

“Our prenuptial agreement stated that if you called off the wedding for any reason, I’d get a monthly stipend until I married someone else. And we haven’t even discussed child support.”

Link couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. “I didn’t call off the wedding. For all intents and purposes, I  _ died _ . I mean obviously I’m alive now, and that’s great, but you didn’t know that when you started a relationship with someone new--”

“I haven’t married him!” She slammed her hand on the table. “And you found someone new. It counts per the contract that  _ you  _ signed.”

“Sam,” Tim warned.

“You’re asking for a lot here,” Max said. “Charles is here, and he’s in Charlie’s life full-time, correct? He’s been away for no events or gatherings, no weekend trips, and spends the bulk of his time with her.” Max turned his attention to Link. “Correct?”

“Yes,” Link nodded. Samantha loved Charlie, certainly, but she wasn’t around as much as Link was.

“We don’t even know if you’re fit to take care of her! You’re brain damaged!” Samantha stressed.

“My brain damage hasn’t stopped you from leaving her with me multiple times,” Link said. “I just don’t see how we’d even be discussing child support. I own the house she lives in, I pay the bills here, I make sure she’s safe and comfortable and clothed… why would I owe any sort of support on top of letting you live here with her? I don’t  _ have  _ to do that. I’ve chosen to.”

“But the prenup says you still need to pay me something at the very least,” she pressed, conceding that she may not get her way with the child support. “You have to do  _ something _ , Charles. I’ve been dealing with all of this since you’ve been gone, and you’re expecting me to just live here and take care of Charlie with nothing?”

“Nothing? It’s  _ my  _ house! If it’s that bad here, if you’ve truly got nothing, then why are you sleeping in the master suite of my house with your boyfriend there?” Link snapped. “You know what? Come to think of it, maybe I do need to do something. Perhaps it’s time for me to make some changes. I won’t demand that you give me any sort of child support, despite the fact that I’m with Charlie most of the time. Hell, you think I’m too brain damaged to be with her? Let’s go get my brain checked and make sure I’m competent, even though we’ve had no problems so far.” Link looked around the table, making eye contact with Max and with Samantha to see their response to his calm but firm response to her whining. “Oh, and since it is my house, then I’m welcome to bring in anyone I’d like. So my partner will be moving in, understood? Don’t worry, you can still keep the master suite. It’s not worth my time or energy to try to move your crap out of it.”

Link picked up his napkin and stood, tossing it onto his plate and stomping away. He resisted the urge to call Samantha a gold-digging bitch under his breath as he did, concerned it might not look great for him in front of his lawyer, regardless of how much of a snake Link thought he was.

Instead, he walked to his room and locked the door, dialing Rhett’s number again.

“Link? Everything okay?”

“Hey, if I find a way to get a plane to the island, will you move up here? At least for awhile? I don’t think I can do this.” Link was seriously questioning if he could handle any more of this by himself without Rhett by his side, and what he’d said at the table was accurate. It was his house and he could have Rhett there if he wanted him.

There was a small airport on the island, a tiny one that was exclusively used for private planes. There were only three ways to get to the island-- taking the bridge with a car, riding the ferry over, or flying in on a private plane or helicopter. Link, of course, had found the fourth way onto the island… washing up there. But he knew, despite the fact that it was rarely used, that the island could accommodate a private plane. And he was sure he had a connection, or if not, the funds to make it happen.

“Give me a few days to see if Danny can look after the house and to get things in order, and yes, I’ll be there.” Rhett had never been on a plane before. He’d driven everywhere he needed to go in his life. But if Link needed him, he’d be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, there will be NO Saturday chapter since I'm on vacation, so I'll be posting the next part on Wednesday of next week. Three chapters left in this one, y'all. Thanks always to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, and mikeuppuffedhe for their feedback on this chapter, and to clemwasjustagirl/shewasjustagirl for listening to me whine over this story for MONTHS. See you soon.


	35. Reunion

Rhett’s nerves were going overboard. He wasn’t sure if it was the thought of the flight, the idea of a takeoff and landing, that terrified him more, or if it was the idea of seeing Link in his new life, or rather, his old one. He worried things would be different, that  _ they  _ would be different away from the home and life they had together. He worried Link wouldn’t be the same man he fell in love with, but more than that he worried that now that Link had everything in the world, Rhett coming would feel like a letdown compared.

But as he sat there in one of four seats on the small plane Link had somehow called in a favor to get to pick Rhett up, he tried to push all of that out of his head and focus on one thing: in a couple of short hours, he’d be in the same room as Link. It had been over a month and a half since that happened, and he couldn’t take being away from him for another day.

His knuckles turned white as the plane approached the end of the runway. If it didn’t start to go up soon, they’d drive straight into the ocean. Even though Rhett figured the pilot knew what he was doing, it didn’t feel like it, and he had every right to grip the seat like he might die at any moment. He hated everything about lift-off, but once he was in the air, his heart felt a little bit lighter.

Link paced impatiently at the small airport he was waiting at. He had Charlie in a sling across his chest and was wiggling his little finger by her face, leading her to tug it to her mouth and coo quietly. She was growing faster than Link could believe, and even though Samantha said she was a month or two premature, she was tracking along just like her birth age, according to the parenting books Link was devouring at night. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get another shot at raising a baby, so he wanted to do this right, to take care of Charlie the right way, and the books made him feel a lot more confident. Link rocked Charlie in his arms, hand supporting the sling even though it held her perfectly, just so he could hold her a little bit closer. He had contemplated leaving her home, letting Samantha stay with her. She was a capable mother and Charlie slept in her room every night, so it wasn’t a lack of trust or anything. But Link wanted Rhett to meet Charlie right away, and the thought of having to wait until they drove the twenty or so minutes back to the house felt like too long.

Link saw and heard the plane coming into view, and he covered Charlie’s ears to block out the sound so it wouldn’t be too loud as the plane landed, then the propellers slowed. Rhett’s overly tall frame was visible through the front window, and as soon as it was quiet enough, Link released Charlie’s ears to wave. Rhett grinned widely, then climbed down from the plane, stretching his limbs and back before racing to Link.

He wasn’t sure what angle to attack hugging Link when Charlie was strapped to him, so he approached Link from the side and tried to wrap his arms anywhere the baby wasn’t. It worked well enough, and Link leaned into it, wrapping one arm around Rhett while securing Charlie. He lifted her out of the sling and held her, letting Rhett get a good look.

“Rhett, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is… is…” It hit Link then that they hadn’t discussed what Rhett would be to Charlie. Link, of course, was her dad. And Tim stepped in to fill a fatherly role, too, being Sam’s boyfriend. It only made sense that Rhett would also take on some sort of parental role, somehow be called “dad” or something, but Link hadn’t thought that far ahead as to how to approach the topic with Rhett.

“It’s up to you, Link,” Rhett finally stepped in. Rhett. Dad. Whatever, Rhett was leaving it up to him. They’d figure it out later, and Charlie wasn’t exactly listening. It didn’t matter how he introduced her now. She was too young to remember, and Link found that awfully relatable.

“How about we go back to the house?” Link asked. He secured Charlie in her seat, facing the rear of the car. It was incredibly satisfying when Link’s hand found itself entwined with Rhett’s. It had been too long.

* * *

 

Rhett placed the last of his shirts into the dresser drawer, then zipped his suitcase closed. It hadn’t taken him long to unpack, since he only had a small bag and wasn’t sure how long he’d be there. He didn’t want to bring his entire wardrobe, not when Link had made it clear they would go back when they could. For now, he had enough to get him by. Link’s arms wrapped around his waist as he sat down on the bed.

They were supposed to be up here getting dressed in something nicer than the clothes Rhett had flown in wearing and Link’s usual tee shirt and sweatpants look. Rhett could sense the tension in Link’s body. Getting dressed meant Samantha was probably having someone over. Rhett didn’t count, because as far as Link could tell, she already disliked him. His presence there was making it clear: Link’s house, Link’s rules. If she wanted to push, he’d push right back. Not that he was using Rhett as a weapon against her, a display of power -- he genuinely missed Rhett -- but that he needed to make it clear that he wasn’t backing down just because she was pushing.

Max had already helped him off the hook with child support, spelling it out to Samantha that if she pursued it, there would be no way anyone would agree with her. It would be a waste of time and money, considering Link agreed and easily passed a mental evaluation that said he was fit to care for her, despite his amnesia, and that he spent more time with her than anyone else.

And Link was certain if he could stomach another meeting with Max without hauling off and punching him for hurting Rhett, he could probably get out of the clause in his prenuptial agreement, too. But for now, none of it mattered. All that mattered was that Rhett was here, live and in person.

“How much time do we have until dinner?” Rhett asked. 

“Two hours,” Link said, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Charlie was asleep in the next room over, the monitor on and listening for any movement. Link had taken to putting her down for naps in the room adjacent to his, making it easier for him to get to her than when she’d nap in the master bedroom where she slept at night. It had taken no time at all to get a bassinet moved to the room, a second monitor for Link to listen to her through. They were alone, Charlie asleep and Samantha and Tim busy elsewhere in the large house. It was just Rhett and Link.

“I know of a good way to kill two hours,” Rhett said. He moved, pinning Link to the bed and straddling his hips. “It’s been awhile.”

Link smiled and tugged Rhett down into a kiss, his hand snaking around Rhett’s thigh and another yanking him down by the shoulder. He bit Rhett’s lip gently, tugging at it with his teeth in need. “It’s been too long,” Link said, lips still against Rhett’s so it came out as more like a mumble than actual words. His hands grazed downwards, tugging Rhett’s shirt over his head and onto the floor.

“It has,” Rhett agreed, and he backed off, sitting Link up enough to start removing his clothing before pressing him back to the bed again. “I need you,” Rhett decided aloud. “I need you so much.”

“Promise we won’t be apart this long again,” Link begged. He kissed his collarbone, then looked Rhett in the eye, begging for confirmation. “I can’t do it again.”

“I promise,” Rhett said. He kissed his way down Link’s body, down his chest, lips and tongue lingering on each nipple. “I promise,” he said again against Link’s slender waist, fingers teasing the waistband of Link’s pants before sliding them off. “I promise,” he repeated one last time, mouth on Link’s thigh as he made his way to his hardened length. His lips closed around it, silencing him from promising any more, but his commitment made clear in every move of his lips and tongue.

Unlike their last time together, there was no need for goodbye, no tears threatening to break free at any moment. They had time, time to explore each other’s bodies, time to find each other again in each touch and kiss and feeling. The promises of the future were obvious to Link. Rhett was here. He was  _ here _ , tangible and in Link’s hands, his arms, his mouth. Link could hold and touch him, kiss him and give him anything he wanted or needed. In those moments, as Link entered Rhett, they clung to one another, if only to convince themselves that this was real, that they weren’t daydreaming they were in the same place while their own hands took care of their needs, but instead they were in the same place, tending to each other.

Link had waited far too long to hear the breathy moans that escaped from Rhett’s lips as he straddled Link, moving himself against Link to get it deeper, begging for Link to fill him. Link grasped his hips, his waist, pulling Rhett down onto him, both of them making their need known. Link took a hand to tend to Rhett’s needs, pulling him over the edge easily, then falling over himself, eyes closing and toes curling like he couldn’t get enough.

After, Rhett collapsed onto Link, his body still half covering Link’s, and Link let his hands trace the constellations of freckles on Rhett’s back and shoulders, let his fingertips graze the tattoo and the scars underneath it. Rhett was strong. Physically, he was strong, that strength evident in the way he hauled crab traps onto the dock with practiced ease, but emotionally he was strong, too, in the way he had stitched his heart back together with Link’s help despite the pain he had endured and the isolation he’d forced himself into.

Rhett’s head rested sleepily on Link’s shoulder. His nerves about the flight had kept him up overnight the night before, and then instead of resting before dinner, he and Link had filled the time with sex instead of a nap. He couldn’t resist any longer, his eyes closing against his will. He wanted to keep staring at Link, to keep watch over him, but he couldn’t help it. He laid there, still for a minute or two, falling deeper into his sleep until a knock sounded at the door.

“Dinner,” Samantha said. Rhett sat up and blinked, trying to wake himself back up.

“I guess we should get dressed,” Link sighed. He didn’t want to. He’d just as happily stayed tangled with Rhett for the evening. But her knocking and demanding Link come down for dinner relayed the message yet again that she’d planned a guest for the evening. Link fished a shirt out of the closet and passed a second one to Rhett. “Here, wear this one.”

Rhett did what Link suggested, putting the shirt on and smoothing it over his chest.

“You look so handsome,” Link said, kissing his cheek. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

But they weren’t ready, which left them both stunned into silence at the bottom of the stairs, the front door standing open as their guests for the evening removed their jackets and hung them by the door.

“Charles!” came the now-familiar voice from the doorway. Link stepped protectively between Rhett and their dinner guests, reaching behind himself to grasp Rhett’s hand tightly. “Rhett?”

“Max,” Rhett said shortly. Rhett placed a hand on Link’s back, guiding him forward. They could only stand at the bottom of the stairs for so long before it became awkward.

“That’s new,” Max nodded toward Rhett’s arm, toward the tattoo that covered the scars from his accident. “I didn’t take you as a tattoo kind of guy. Figured that much pain might not be your thing.”

“Easy to underestimate the level of tolerance I have for that sort of thing, I suppose,” Rhett remarked. “You must be… um…” Rhett paused, pretending to forget the name of Max’s husband. Link knew he knew it, knew he couldn’t have forgotten after having their engagement announcement in his closet for years.

“Levi,” he said, stepping forward with an extended hand. “Max has… has told me about you.”

The tension was thick enough that it could be cut with a knife, but Max smiled warmly. Link wondered how he could do so while seeing just how uncomfortable Rhett was with the situation. Link turned to Rhett, trying to discern how he was doing with the situation. As Max turned, placing Levi’s jacket on a hanger, Link lifted on his toes and whispered in Rhett’s ear. “We can slip out and go get some Bojangles or something. We don’t have to stay.”

“No, it’s okay,” Rhett said back, teeth gritted. “It’s just dinner.” Link gave a small nod in response, then turned back to their guests.

“Well, Rhett, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Last I heard you’d moved out of state. What brings you to Raleigh?” Max asked.

Before Rhett could answer, Samantha stepped into the room, dressed far too formally compared to everyone else there. “You two know each other?”

Max smiled and looked at her. “Old college friend,” he said. Link felt the shock and betrayal on Rhett’s behalf, the reduction of their story from first love that had once meant everything to Rhett to now being an old college friend, not even an ex-husband Max was willing to acknowledge.

“Something like that,” Rhett said, standing stiffly next to Link.

“Rhett’s here with me,” Link answered the question that went unanswered. He made a display of lifting on his toes and pulling Rhett into a kiss. Rhett started stiff, awkward in the public display of affection, but softened the moment they touched lips. Link wasn’t sure if he imagined it or if Max actually muttered “good luck” under his breath, but either way, he was close to snapping, dangerously close to closing the distance between them with his fists and forcing Max out the door. “Sam, a word,” Link snapped.

The last thing Link wanted was to leave Rhett alone there, but Rhett was holding his own with polite conversation and slow sips from a glass of whiskey. Link watched him from around the corner as he spoke to Samantha.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Link snapped. “Tonight of all nights, you invite  _ him _ ?”

“Jesus, Charles, how am I supposed to know your… your little boytoy,” she spat the word, “can’t handle being around an old college buddy for dinner.”

“Sam, that's his ex-husband! And the guy his ex left him for! And you're expecting them to sit there and have a peachy keen dinner where it's all sunshine and roses? You… you  _ planned  _ this, didn't you? You thought if you brought him here with Rhett, we couldn't talk through the prenup. I can't believe you,” Link hissed.

“You're more brain damaged than I thought. Are you that freaking paranoid that you can't see this as the coincidence that it clearly is? Get your head checked,” she said, before slapping on a fake grin and turning to talk sweetly to their guests. If it had been anyone else but Samantha, Link would be willing to believe it was all coincidental. But with her, he couldn't put it past her to figure out the truth and plan it out carefully. Link felt sick.

Link returned to pleasant conversation. To the untrained eye, it might even seem comfortable and unstrained, but Link knew Rhett better than that, could see the tension in his jawline buried beneath his beard, the way his veins throbbed in his neck.

“So, you’ve been out of North Carolina for… five or so years now?” Max asked.

“Coming up on six,” Rhett nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey. He was going easy on it, taking the drinks slow and trying not to overindulge. He didn’t want to get himself too far gone to where he’d lose his tongue and say something he shouldn’t. “It’s been good. Relaxing for sure. I wake up and get to listen to the waves out my window every day. Certainly can’t beat that. And I’ve got plenty of time for reading,” he said.

“Reading? You  _ read _ ? I can’t say I’ve ever seen a book in your hands unless it was required reading for something or another,” Max snarked.

“Rhett’s recommended some excellent works to me,” Link contributed. “I think one of the first things I noticed about him was his bookshelf.” Link chuckled and Rhett joined him in a full, hearty laugh.

“My bookshelves?” Rhett smiled warmly. “I guess there are worse things to notice about me. The first thing I noticed about you was the seaweed in your hair!” Link snorted in response, resting his hand easily on Rhett’s leg. It wasn’t until that moment that he noticed Levi and Max were seated in chairs a foot or two apart, barely touching and certainly not looking at each other. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Rhett’s presence or if he’d just never noticed before, but something was off between them.

As they moved into the dining room, Link noticed as Max nudged his chair an inch or two farther away from Levi than it had originally been positioned. In response, Link shifted his chair an inch or two closer to Rhett. As dinner was being served, Rhett reached his hand over to Link’s, which had been resting on the edge of the table, and took it in his own, smoothing his thumb over Link’s hand carefully.

“Sorry, this is terrible timing, excuse me,” Rhett stood up, placing his napkin carefully in the chair. Link looked at him with concern, furrowing his brows. “Restroom,” Rhett mouthed. Link nodded.

Only a minute after Rhett had disappeared from the room, Max stood and placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “I’m going to use the restroom,” he said in his ear. Link followed Max with his eyes until he was out of the room.

“You two seem really good together,” Levi said quietly, lifting his wine glass to his lips. “Have you been together long?”

Link thought carefully back through the months they’d been together, trying to pinpoint exactly when they’d connected for good, the time where they hadn’t decided to pull apart, where Link had given in. It had been during the hurricane, which seemed like a lifetime ago, but in reality wasn’t that long. “I guess it’s been about seven months now,” Link said. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, perhaps aside from Charlie.”

“As far as you can remember, at least,” Levi responded with a small smile. Link couldn’t help but chuckle. Link liked Levi. He was nice, soft-spoken, the opposite of Max, who commanded a room with his presence. “So you know about Max and Rhett, then?”

“Yeah, I do,” Link said. He looked down at his plate.

“I’m sorry for that,” Levi said. “At first I didn’t know that he was married,” he admitted. “By the time I did, I had fallen for him, and when he told me how reckless and horrible Rhett was, I felt sorry for him and the situation he was in. I’m realizing now I might not have given Rhett a fair chance. I’m glad to see that it worked out for him, that you two are happy.”

“I am, too.” Link couldn’t stay angry. Sure, he hated the hurt that Rhett had endured, and for the longest time he’d blamed Levi, too. But truly, he couldn’t be mad at something that had left Rhett alone enough to bring him into his life, even if it had hurt him deeply. “I should… I should go check on Rhett,” Link realized. It had been several minutes since he’d left, and Link wondered if he’d gone back to their room instead of the restroom, if he was upset or even potentially just tired. He stood and walked out of the room, turning down the hallway to see if he could find Rhett.

Instead, he found Rhett pressed against the wall, Max’s lips on Rhett’s. He wanted to scream.  _ This can’t be happening _ . Not even a few hours here, and Rhett was already in Max’s arms, as if Sam’s master plan had worked, as if she’d crafted this moment to break Link’s heart. Link whipped around long enough to hear Rhett exclaim “What the hell? Get off of me!” He heard the soft thud of Max’s body hitting the opposite side of the hallway and turned back around, seeing Rhett stalk away. Max looked at Link, guilt written all over his face.

“Fuck,” Max muttered, and rushed back to the dining room. Link was torn on whether to follow Rhett and make sure he was okay, or to follow Max and confront him. He took a step toward Rhett, then turned on his heel and walked into the dining room.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell you were doing kissing my partner just now?” Link demanded. It was then that he felt Rhett behind him, placing a palm on the small of his back. Levi’s eyes widened, then squeezed shut as he pushed his chair back.

“Levi, wait!” Max said, following Levi as he continued out the dining room, leaving his jacket behind as he raced at the door. Max stole one glance back toward Rhett before following Levi out.

“I’m so sorry,” Rhett said. “I… I really did just leave to go to the restroom. And then he… he met me in the hallway and… and…”

Link wrapped his arms around Rhett. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s fired immediately. I should have done that from the beginning.” Rhett nodded, tears prickling at his eyes.

“He told me that I shouldn’t be here, that I should have seen how happy you were with Charlie, happy to be here, and known that I was only going to hold you back from the life you deserved here, that he could appreciate me where you’d only get bored with me now that you had this life.”

“Rhett, that’s… that’s a lie,” Link said.

“I know,” Rhett nodded. “I know you mean that right now. But this life is a lot different than the one we had together, Link. What if… what if he ends up being right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks always to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, mikeuppuffedhe, and clemwasjustagirl/shewasjustagirl for everything. See you Saturday. There are only 2 more parts after this.


	36. The Whole Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mention of character death

Logically, Rhett knew that the things Max said in the hallway, the seeds of doubt he planted right before stealing a kiss, were false. But they latched onto the doubt that Rhett already held, the worries that he was too far removed from Link’s new world to fit correctly. He was an outsider here, his laid-back lifestyle from the island not translating to the constant movement of the house he was living in now with Link.

He loved Link, and he loved Charlie, loved watching them interact and Rhett himself loved holding her, falling asleep in a chair as she napped in his arms. It was something special. But he didn’t belong here and he wondered just how long it would take for Link’s love for him to wear off, for it to become painfully clear he wasn’t right for Link.

“What can I do to convince you I’m not going anywhere, Rhett?” Link asked. “What will it take?” Link placed a hand on each of Rhett’s cheeks and kissed him. It had been almost a week and Link could still feel the tension in Rhett’s body at night when they’d sleep, the fear written on his face, the way he seemed to almost pull away when Rhett was near. Link knew, of course, that he wasn’t feeling this way because Max had kissed him. They both knew Max couldn’t stand for Rhett to be happy and that he’d done it to mess with his relationship. But the words tugged deeper at Rhett’s heart and nothing Link could say seemed to move him back to feeling like himself.

“Nothing, honey,” Rhett said quietly. “I believe you. And I know that you believe the words that are coming out of your mouth, gosh, I know you do. But what if things change? What if you decide that you’re sick of me and sick of this and a week or a month or a year from now it’s over? Then what?”

“I haven’t gotten sick of you yet, even when it was just the two of us for  _ months _ . I love how you love me, and the way you are with Charlie… I love everything about you, Rhett. That’s not changing.”

“Okay,” Rhett said quietly. “Okay. I’ll stop.”

“What if I talk to Sam about some sort of custody agreement?” Link asked. “Maybe we can take Charlie to the island during the season and then we can come back here in the off-season or something. Live here sometimes, then live there part of the time… give us some space where it can be just the three of us. We’ll make it work.”

“You know she’s not going to go for that, Link,” Rhett sighed. “I don’t want you to have to make a choice that could upset her, make her take you away from Charlie. I don’t want you to have to choose. I won’t make you make that choice, but I know she will, and if it comes down to it, you  _ have  _ to choose Charlie. You have to.”

“It’s not going to come down to that,” Link sighed. “It’s not. And if it does, we’ll figure that out when we get there. Right now I need to know that you’re okay, and that you’re not letting this get to you.”

“I’m… not letting it get to me,” Rhett responded, burying his head in his hands.

“You are, though. Do you trust me?” Link asked. “You have to trust me. I’m not going anywhere, not without you.”

* * *

 

Rhett woke up from a nap with a start, finding Link’s side of the bed empty. The baby monitor was gone, too, which meant Link must have heard Charlie stirring and sleepily taken it with him. He’d done that before. Rhett quietly opened the door to her room, thinking he’d find her inside, perhaps with Link sleeping open-mouthed in the chair. He wasn’t there, though. Neither was Charlie, though Rhett was right about Link taking the monitor with him in a sleep-deprived stupor. Both the receiver and the monitor were on the bedside. Rhett shook his head and picked it up, placing it back in their room. He needed to take more nap shifts with Charlie and get Link the sleep he deserved.

But instead he found himself looking for them, knowing they were both awake and somewhere in the house, he was sure. He looked in the living room, where he usually found Link lying on the floor next to Charlie’s play mat, waving some sort of black and white squishy block with jingling bells over her head and talking to her. They weren’t there.

Finally, he heard Link’s frustrated muttering coming from the kitchen, with Charlie cooing, the swishing sound of her swing rocking her back and forth.

“It shouldn’t be this hard to make rice,” Link said. He turned to Charlie. “Do  _ you  _ know how to make rice? No? Well, one of us is going to have to learn because I can’t make rice for Dad if neither of us know how to make rice.” He sighed heavily. Rhett peeked around the corner, still unseen, and saw four pots sitting on the countertop, some with rice smudged down the sides as if it had boiled over and stuck.  _ Oh no _ , Rhett thought.

“Okay, what’s going on, you two?” Rhett asked, making his presence known.

“Charlie won’t help me make rice,” Link mock-pouted. Rhett stepped around him, taking the box of rice from his hand.

“This is minute rice, so it’s a little different from the stuff we make at home,” Rhett said. “Charlie, take notes.” Charlie drooled in response. “Here.” Rhett scanned the cabinets for a clean pot, finding one that was still unused and unmarred by the rice mess that Link had already made.

“You clean, I’ll cook,” Rhett promised. “See, Charlie? Teamwork.” She kicked her feet, and Link’s smile made everything feel okay. Slowly but surely, Rhett would figure out his place here. In the meantime, they were starting with baby steps.

* * *

“I can’t get it to work,” Rhett fretted, turning the knob on the baby monitor. “Usually there’s a crackle. There’s no crackle.” He hit the monitor against his hand.

“Maybe it got off of the right frequency,” Link said. He took the monitor out of Rhett’s hand and switched the frequency from one knob to the other. “We might have grabbed the wrong one downstairs. The master bedroom one is tuned differently.” While Charlie napped in the room neighboring Link’s, she slept upstairs in the master suite, and the monitor there allowed Samantha to have dinner or a drink without being in her bedroom. But Link had mis-tuned the receiver once before, hearing too much of the personal time between Samantha and Tim, and turned it back quickly. He was thankful Charlie’s baby monitor was in the neighboring room and not in his room altogether, or he was certain they’d hear the same sort of incident coming from he and Rhett taking time alone together.

He shifted the frequency, hoping to hear the quiet snores from Charlie’s room. Instead, Link settled on voices.

“Come on, Sam, are you really  _ that  _ surprised he’s with a man?” Tim’s voice crackled through.

“What are you saying?” she pushed. “That I’m blind for not  _ knowing  _ he was gay to begin with?”

“I’m saying you’re damn lucky he doesn’t remember anything or he’d know,” Tim shot back. “I mean, if he remembered he hadn’t slept with you…” Static cut through the sound, but Link could figure out the whole point. “-- sick of watching him raise  _ my  _ kid, Sam.”

“Oh my god,” Rhett said. Link threw the receiver on the bed, tears welling in his eyes and tugging at his hair.

“Charlie’s not… she’s not…” Tears spilled over. “I love her so much, Rhett,” Link said.

“We’ll both be out on the streets if he finds out!” Samantha said, and Link could hear the strain in her voice. “We’ll have  _ nothing _ . You were nothing before you met him. He paid for your board, he gave you everything to get you started. What will you do when all that’s gone? You two aren’t exactly BFFs anymore.”

Link heard a door slam, both through the receiver and above them in the house. Through the door that connected his room to Charlie’s, he heard her cry. Link didn’t hesitate to go to her, to pick her up. Through the open door, Rhett could hear the reassurance he gave. It didn’t matter what Link had heard on the receiver. “Daddy’s here, Charlie. Daddy’s got you.” He’d come back to know Charlie, and Rhett knew that there was no way he’d jeopardize his time with her, whether or not she was his, by telling Sam and Tim he had overheard and kicking them out of the house.

Rhett’s heart ached for Link, but it also filled with what a good man he was. Rhett turned the knob on the monitor, clicking it off. They’d heard enough for one afternoon, and now both of them were going to pretend that the conversation hadn’t happened at all, if only to buy Link more time with the little girl he so desperately loved.

* * *

Link laid next to Rhett, the night air coming through the window he had open. It wasn’t quite the breeze from the bay that Link loved, but it was fresh air regardless.

Rhett grazed his fingers along Link’s arm.

“You know, I have an identity now,” Link said. “A name and all of that.”

“You do,” Rhett agreed.

“We couldn’t get married because I didn’t,” Link said. “But if you wanted to, we could now.”

Rhett let out a soft hum of approval, then leaned to kiss Link. “Do you want to get married, Link? Legally?”

“I do,” Link said. “We already promised. We may as well make it official.”

“Are you proposing to me?” Rhett grinned.

“We’re way past that, I think,” Link said. “But if it matters that much to you, then yes. Will you  _ actually  _ marry me?”

“I will.”

“Do you think Sam’s right?” Link asked. “Do you think I was gay before the accident? I… I don’t understand why I’d marry here if that was true. Why I’d get the prenup and all of that, you know? If I always knew that. I know from what I’ve read I was raised in a religious family, so what if I didn’t sleep with her because of that?”

“Link, there’s a lot I don’t think you’re ever going to know. Does it really matter?” Rhett asked. “I mean, if you’re not gay now, or you don’t think you were before, that’s okay. As long as you are still attracted to me and want to be with me, that’s really all that’s relevant to me, regardless of what you’re thinking there.”

“I’m not attracted to her, if that’s what you’re asking. I was just wondering if she’s right and I was gay before, or if the accident made me… or… I don’t know. Just forget I brought it up,” Link sighed and put his hands over his face. Rhett kissed him gently on his temple.

“Hey, we’re going to figure it out. This, and everything else. Just give it time.”

* * *

 

Rhett could hear the squeak of the rocking chair through the monitor, could hear Link singing softly to Charlie. It was against his better judgment, but completely in the nature of his curiosity, to pick up the baby monitor. It had become a guilty habit of his, to switch to the other frequency when Link wasn’t around.

There was more to the story than what Samantha or Tim was telling them, more to things than just that Charlie wasn’t Link’s, and Rhett was positive about it. But with Link’s demand that they keep what they knew a secret between them, Rhett couldn’t push him to listen. Instead, Rhett waited, patiently letting Link leave the room until he turned it. For days he’d heard nothing. Most of the time the monitor was off if Charlie was down in the guest room, left on only if they’d forgotten. Sometimes it was on but picked up silence, the soft crackle of nothing, or the sound of the television. This afternoon, Rhett heard soft moans and realized he didn’t want to hear anything more. Instead, he turned it back to Link’s singing and placed it on the side table again.

He couldn’t sleep, though, couldn’t take the nap that had been calling to him. Instead, he decided to walk downstairs, find where he’d left his book, and read. It didn’t take him long to locate it in the living room, and took him even less time to pick it up, start reading, and then drift off to sleep in the chair. When he woke two hours later, Link still wasn’t around, and he wondered if Charlie could possibly still be napping. Surely she wasn’t, Rhett figured. He climbed the stairs and heard Link laughing, stepping into the room to see him changing her diaper and making faces at her. Link didn’t see him, though, so he stepped out, gave them time to be alone together.

Rhett wondered how long it would take for the truth to come out, for Link’s hand to be forced and for Sam to take Charlie away. Rhett hoped the day would never come, but lived in fear that it would sometime soon. Right now, she stayed because this gave her a house, money, status… it gave her a story, even. She had already been looking to sell the story of Link’s death and her ensuing romance, how she’d bravely raised the child with Link’s best friend and then fallen in love with him. Rhett had seen the paperwork for it on a kitchen counter. Now he knew that wasn’t the real story, and the questions of what else wasn’t real left him scared for Link.

He started back down the stairs until he heard shouting from the room upstairs, then shattering glass. He rushed up the stairs, concerned someone was hurt, but when he saw the door closed, he knew better than to enter. Instead, he stood quietly outside the door, straining to listen to the voices within.

“I swear to god, Tim, if you tell him…” Sam yelled.

“I’m not going to stand there and watch those two raise her! I’m not going to stand by while they call themselves ‘dad’ and ‘daddy’ and pretend to be this perfect little family while I act like I’m just your boyfriend!” Tim said. “And if you don’t shut up,  _ you’re  _ going to be how they hear it!”

“What are you going to do?” Sam asked. Rhett slipped his phone out of his pocket. This was wrong, but this was also what he’d been waiting for, and he knew Link would never believe it if he didn’t hear it for himself. He found the recording function on his phone, pressing it and letting it take in the conversation. “If you tell them she’s yours, then what? What else are they going to find out?”

“I don’t see why we can’t tell them that, and then leave it at that!” Tim snapped. “Telling them she’s not Charles’ daughter doesn’t mean they’re going to figure everything else out. He’s brain damaged, for god’s sake. It’s not like he remembers!”

“And what happens if he does? What happens if it all comes out when he’s trying to confirm she’s not his. Do you really think he remembers that she’s not his? It was easy to say when he was dead, but guess what? You fucked that up, didn’t you?” Sam yelled. “You couldn’t have made sure he actually died out there, could you have? You knock him out and then just let him go out into the ocean thinking it’s all taken care of?”

“Shut  _ up,  _ Sam. Do you want him to hear you?”

“How about this? If you tell him about Charlie being yours, about the affair, and you get us kicked out of this house and get all of the money, everything cut off, then I’ll tell them what you did. I’ll tell them how you tried to kill him to save  _ your  _ ass,” Sam said.

“To save  _ yours _ ,” Tim said. “He’s not dumb, Sam. Or, he wasn’t ever dumb before. He’d know if you got pregnant and he wasn’t sleeping with you, that something had happened. No one can be that stupid.”

“If you were trying to save my ass,” Sam said, “I would think you would have done a better job instead of letting him end up alive on some island. Nice job, Tim. Nice  _ fucking  _ job.” Rhett heard the click of her heels on the floor, approaching the doorway. He hit stop on his recording and ducked around a corner, trying to get to the other stairwell without being seen.

  
Rhett didn’t have any more options. If they’d tried and failed to kill Link once, it was only a matter of time before they’d try again if they saw it as the only way out. Rhett wasn’t sure they’d be as sloppy the second time. If he didn’t let Link know, they were  _ all  _ in danger.

* * *

“We have to go to the police, Link. We have to tell them everything,” Rhett insisted. Link was resisting. He didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize things, that could take him away from Charlie.

“What if we do, and they don’t believe us, and then Sam takes Charlie away?” Link fretted.

“It’s all right here on recording. It’s enough for them to ask some serious questions,” Rhett insisted. “And not that I want this, for them to be away from Charlie, either, but if they get arrested we can make a good push to adopt her. If they tried to kill you, they’d be away for a long time, Link, and you’re the person who spends the most time with her. That’s not why I think you should do this. I think you should do this because I think they’d try again if they knew you knew about Charlie.”

Link buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want to talk about this right now, but now was the only time they had to talk about it. With Sam and Tim gone for the night, out at a gala event for some charity, their status secured in the upper class of North Carolina if only by their association to Link and the financial gains from his help, they didn’t have a choice.

“I don’t know what to do, Rhett. What if we’re all wrong or we misunderstood?”

Rhett played the audio back to Link, then said quietly “I don’t think there’s a way to misunderstand this, Link. They tried to kill you to cover up their affair. And now that we know Charlie isn’t yours, the chance of them trying again is a lot higher.”

“This is all so messed up,” Link said. “I should have never found out who I was. I should have never come back.”

“Don’t say that, Link. Please don’t say that. You have Charlie. She’s beautiful, Link, and she lights up when you’re near her. Her life is better with you in it. So is mine. And our lives are better with her in it. It was worth coming back if only for that.” Rhett paused and took a deep breath. “How about this? We deny you’re involved and deny that you know at all. I drive this to the police right now and I say  _ I  _ overheard and if anyone asks, I didn’t discuss it with you at all. If you’re not okay with that, then you need to stop me before I get out the door.” Rhett stood and kissed Link’s forehead, then turned and slipped his shoes onto his feet. Link didn’t move to stop him, so Rhett picked up the keys. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.” Link still didn’t move, and Rhett was going to do what he had to to keep them safe.

* * *

Link held Charlie in his arms, swaying her as he paced the living room.  _ What’s taking so long?  _ Link thought.

When he saw police lights flash through the window, he panicked. Were they here to serve some sort of warrant? Would they take Charlie? Did Rhett tell them enough to get them here, for them to wait for Tim and Samantha to come home so they could take them into custody?

A knock sounded at the door and Link held Charlie close to his chest as he opened it slowly.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Mr. Neal?”

“Yes,” Link responded. “Come in.”

The officer stepped inside and removed his hat, looking down at the floor and shifting his weight between his feet.

“There’s been an accident,” he said. His eyes flashed up to meet Link’s briefly. “A car collision involving your fiance.” Link’s heart raced.  _ No, no no no, this can’t be happening.  _ “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. It was a fatal collision.” The officer reached forward, swooping Charlie out of Link’s arms just before he fainted, falling to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you on Wednesday for the epilogue.
> 
> Thank you so much to mythical-trash, thatsrhinkbaby, mikeuppuffedhe, and clemwasjustagirl/shewasjustagirl for everything they did to support Washed Up and my future projects.


	37. Epilogue: Wide Awake

“Daddy!” Link could hear the call through the baby monitor, and it stirred him from his sleep. Morning light trickled through the window, leaving him no room to wonder why Charlie was awake. It had been seventeen months and Link still wasn’t tired of hearing her through the crackling monitor. “Daddy,” Charlie repeated, her voice sounding distant despite her being just a room away.

Link propped himself up on his elbows, trying to wake himself up enough to go in and get her. Before he could put a foot on the floor, though, he felt the graze of a hand tugging him back onto the bed. “I’ll get her.”

Rhett’s voice was groggy, the pair of them staying up far too late the night before. Link let him, sinking back onto his pillow and rolling over, closing his eyes for just a minute or two more. He’d get up and go in there soon, head downstairs to make coffee for them, but for now he listened to the sound of the bay lapping at the dock through the open balcony doors.

Every day, Charlie looked more and more like her mother. As much as he was glad the officers had gotten it wrong, mistaken Sam for his fiancee instead of Rhett, his heart ached that Charlie wouldn’t really ever get to know her. Link imagined when she didn’t feel as backed into a corner by her own bad choices, she was probably not a terrible person. There must have been some reason he’d proposed to her to begin with, but now he’d never get the chance to find out what that reason was.

It had been a fight for a solid four months to get Charlie, one that left he and Rhett in North Carolina far into the start of crabbing season. Tim had fought, argued that Charlie should go to his parents while he was in prison. But with their ailing health, and the fact that Link had been present in Charlie’s life from the moment he’d known about her, the judge’s decision was easy. Tim would be in prison well into Charlie’s young adulthood, and the judge wasn’t about to leave her without suitable parents, or worse, bouncing through the system, until then.

When Link finally pulled himself out of bed, tugging on a tee shirt, he paused in the doorway of the room that once held his office. There, his husband held their child, bouncing her on his hip and lifting her so he could blow raspberries on her stomach. Link couldn’t help but smile. He walked downstairs, scooping coffee grinds into a filter and filling the water. He heard Rhett walk down the stairs, Charlie babbling the whole way as Rhett sank into his chair, resting Charlie on his lap. He picked up a book, one of the stories she responded to the most, and started reading.

Link poured him a cup of coffee, placing it on the side table and bending down to kiss Charlie and Rhett each on the top of their heads. “You two okay in here for awhile?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Just reading,” Rhett said. “Go on, then.”

Link did, carrying his own cup of coffee with him. He walked into the lower bedroom, the one that had been empty for ages, but that now held his typewriter. He’d been waiting for the right moment to have the inspiration he needed to get started, trying and failing to find the right words. But today, he thought, today might be different.

He scooted his chair forward and placed his hands on the keys. Slowly, the first words of his story came into existence:

 

**_Good Lord, it’s hot. Why is it so freakin’ hot?_ ** **It wasn’t just the sun, but the reflection of it on his surroundings, that made it hot, but also intensely bright. He could feel the sun on his face, the heat stinging at the slivers where his eyes were barely open. For a moment, he wondered why he’d left the curtains open, allowed the sun to peek through and interrupt his sleep. It wasn’t until he shifted slightly and felt the rough sand on his cheek that he realized he wasn’t in bed after all.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this story, supported this story, loved the heck out of me through this story, and especially to @mythical-trash, @thatsrhinkbaby, and @mikeuppuffedhe, who beta read it for me. Endless thanks, support, and love to @clemwasjustagirl/shewasjustagirl for everything she did and everything she's done to contribute to this story and so many others. If you haven't checked them out over on tumblr or ao3, definitely do. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the places mentioned in this fic are based on real places. Any resemblance to real people, however, is imaginary, and employees of said locations are made up, and the policies of various places or menus may not reflect reality. This has a very loose basis to the actual location, so please keep that in mind while reading. Any resemblance to real life is purely accidental. Please don't sue me.


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